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LENI   LEOTI 


ADVENTURES  IN 


EQC  PRAIRI 


BY  EMERSON  BENNETT. 


AUTHOR  OF  "THE  FOREST  ROSE,"  "THE  BANDITS  OF  THE  OSAGE,"  "THE 
TRAITOR,"  » MIKE  FINK,"  "KATE  CLARENDON,"  &.c.,  &c. 


w 


REVISED  AND  CORRECTED  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


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LENI    LEOTI; 


OR, 


ADVENTURES   IN   THE   FAR   WEST 


A  SEQUEL  TO    'PRAIRIE  FLOWER." 


BY  EMERSON   BENNETT, 

.H0TKOR    OF   <;  THF    FOREST    ROSE,"    "  TflE   BANDIT3    OF    TITF.   OSAGE,"   "  THE   TBAITO*,* 
"  MIKE    FINK,"   "  KATE   CLARENDON,"   ETO.,    ETP- 


Eut  O,  th"  WOPTRITJ^  prairie, 

Here  sire  lJoil'.«  floral  bowers, 
Of  ;il!  that  li.>  hath  inuke  ou  earth 

The  Invrlirst,  *        *        * 

This  is  the  Almighty's  ;;;irileii, 

And  the  mu'iTitaius.  stars,  and  fe 
Are  naiicrht  i-omj.r.p  J  in  beauty, 

\N  ith  ti»rl'»  uav  l».n  prairio  free. 


NEW     EDITION,     1EVISED     AND     CORRECTED     BY    THE     AUTHOR. 


CINCINNATI: 
PUBLISHED    BY    U.   P.   J'AMES, 

No.  177  RACE  STREET. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Confess,  In  the  year  1850. 

R  Y    J.    A.    &    U     T.    J  A  M  E  P , 
in  tb«  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  th«  United  States,  for  tho  Dictriat  of  Oci 


Bancroft  Library 
/  "'6  ^  q 


LENI    LE.OTI. 


CHAPTER    I. 

•TILL   IK    OREGON    CITY THB    SECRET    UNDIVXJLGED A    DILEMMA RES0/.VB    TO   MAKJ 

IT     KNOWN A     STROLL INTERRUPTION EVA     MORTIMER BRIEF     ACCOUNT     OS 

THE   MORTIMERS RESOLVE    TO   GO   IN    SEARCH   OK   MY    FRIEXD. 


IT  was  the  last  day  of  May,  in  the  year 
of  our  Lord  1843.  Already  the  earth  felt 
the  genial  air  of  summer,  and  looked  as 
smiling  as  a  gay  maiden  in  her  teens.  The 
blade  had  covered  the  ground  with  a  car 
pet  of  matchless  green,  amid  which,  their 
Sovely  faces  half  concealed,  bright  flowers 
of  a  hundred  varieties,  peeped  modestly 
forth  to  render  the  landscape  enchanting, 
ifiving  their  sweet  breath  to  a  southern 
breeze  that  softly  stole  over  them.  The 
trees  in  every  direction  were  in  full  fo 
liage,  and  already  among  them  could  be 
seen  green  bunches  of  embryo  fruits.  It 
was  iu  fact  a  delightful  day,  a  delightful 
season  of  the  year,  and  a  delightful  scene 
upon  which  I  gazed,  with  feelings,  alas  ! 
that  had  more  in  them  of  sadness  than 

j°y- 

I  was  still  in  Oregon  City  ;  but  two 
months  had  flown  since  on  the  banks  of 
the  romantic  Willamette  I  offered  my  hand, 
heart,  and  fortune  to  Lilian  Huntly,  and 
was  accepted,  only  to  find  the  nuptial  day 
prolonged  to  an  indefinite  period  —  the  re 
turn  of  my  friend  and  her  brother.  I  did 
not  describe  rny  feelings  then  to  the  read 
er  ;  but,  as  he  or  she  must  have  imagined, 
the}''  were  very  pa«iful.  I  had  deceived 
Lilian  and  her  mother,  J  knew,  in  leading 
them  to  hope,  even,  for  the  return  of 
Charles  Huntly,  and  i  felt  stung  to  the 


very  soul,  as  one  guilty  of  a  crime.  Wlrnt 
was  I  to  do  ?  Should  I  avow  all  to  Lilian 
and  make  her  wretched  by  destroying  all 
hope  of  ever  seeing  Charles  again  ?  or 
should  I  still  let  her  remain  in  blissful 
ignorance  of  his  fate,  and  look  in  vain  to 
the  future  for  the  consummation  of  her 
ardent  wishes  ?  It  was  a  painful  dilem 
ma.  The  first  was  the  most  open,  upright, 
and  straight- for  ward  manner  of  settling  the 
matter,  most  undoubtedly  ;  and  conscience 
and  a  first  impulse  urged  me  to  it ;  but 
then,  a  doubt  in  my  own  mind  that  he 
was  really  dead  —  a  faint,  a  very  faint 
hope  that  he  might  sometime  return  to  his 
friends  —  a  loathing  to  inflict  a  wound 
upon  the  affectionate  heart  I  loved,  which 
time  alone  could  heal,  perhaps  cause 
needless  suffering  to  one  who  had  already 
suffered  enough  —  restrained  me  ;  ane 
between  a  desire  to  do  right,  and  a  feai 
to  do  wrong,  I  did  nothing  but  muse 
abstractedly,  the  result  of  which  was,  in 
my  own  mind,  to  take  a  day  for  thought, 
and  then  decide.  But  the  next  day  found 
me  in  the  same  quandary,  and  the  next, 
and  the  next. 

Thus  days  rolled  on,  one  after  another, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  month  I  was  as  un 
decided  as  ever  ;  and  though  daily  basking 
in  the  smiles  of  Lilian,  and  listening  to  her 
artless  words  of  musical  sweetness,  not 


LENI     LEOTI;     OP, 


even  a  hint  had  1  tvei  thrown  out  regard 
ing-  what  I  knew  of  her  brother.  Often 
would  she  mention  him,  but  always  in  a 
way  to  denote  she  scarcely  had  a  doubt 
of  seeing  him  the  coming  summer  ;  and 
the  thought  that  she  must  be  disappointed, 
ever  tended  to  make  me  pad  and  melan 
choly.  I  had  never  objected  to  the  indefi 
nite  period  fixed  on  fcr  our  wedding,  for 
tl>e  simple  reason  that,  t.o  object,  was  only 
to  subject  myself  to  an  inquiry  into  the 
cause,  arid  this  1  feared.  What  was  I  to 
do  ?  The  question  came  up  night  and 
day,  at  all  times  and  in  ail  places,  and 
troubled  me  sorely  —  so  much  so,  in  fact, 
that  I  began  to  fear  its  effects  upon  my 
constitution. 

At  last  I  resolved  to  tell  her  all,  and  for 
this  purpose  invited  her  one  morning  1o  our 
usual  stroll  on  the  banks  of  the  Willa 
mette.  The  day  was  fine,  and  everything 
around  beautiful.  We  took  our  way  di 
rectly  to  the  falls,  and  paused  upon  a  bluff 
immediately  over  the  rolling,  sparkling 
waters.  This  bluff,  which  is  the  bank  of 
the  stream  at  Oregon  City,  varies  from 
twenty  to  eighty  feet  in  hight,  and,  run 
ning  back,  forms  the  level  upon  which  the 
town  was  then  just  beginning  to  be  laid 
out.  The  scene  was  charming,  notwith 
standing  it  was  in  the  wilderness.  A  beau 
tiful  forest  stretched  away  on  either  hand — 
below  us  rolled  the  river,  roaring  over 
the  falls  —  and  on  the  opposite  side  rose 
similar  bluffs,  and  another  pleasant  forest. 
I:  seemed  a  place  fitted  for  the  commun 
ion  of  lovers  ;  and  here  Lilian  and  I  had 
whiled  away  our  happiest  hours.  Here  I 
had  offered  my  hand  to  her  —  here  been 
accepted  —  and  of  course  the  scene  could 
not  but  recall  pleasant  associations.  Hither 
then  we  strayed  ;  and  as  we  paused  above 
the  bright  river,  Lilian  exclaimed,  with  a 
look  of  joy : 

"  0,  it  will  be  so  delightful  when  diaries 
joins  us  !  Do  you  know  what  I  have  de 
termined  on,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Surely  not,"  I  answered. 

"  Do  you  see  that  level  yonder  (point 
ing  down  the  stream),  which  sets  off  so 
uleasantly  below  this,  shaded  by  those  tall 
old  trees'?  " 

"  Ay,  I  see,  Lilian." 

"Well,  there  I  have  planned  having  such 
•  pic-nic,  on  the  day  when — when 


She  paused,  and  blushed,  and  glanced 
timidly  at  me,  as  if  expecting  I  would 
complete  the  sentence.  I  did  not,  for  my 
mind  was  busy  with  sad  thoughts.  Now, 
thought  I,  is  the  time  to  ^11  her  all.  But 
how  should  I  begin  to  pain  herJ  T  *an 
uneasy,  and  felt  miserable,  and  '.oubtloss 
looked  as  I  felt,  for  the  next  momenr  »h6 
added,  in  ^omc  alarm  ; 

"  Why,  Francis,  what  is  the  matter  ? 
You  look  so  pale  !  Has  anything  hap 
pened  ?  " 

"  Nothing  new." 

"What  then?  You  always  look  ?o 
pained  when  I  allude  to  brother  Charles  ! 
Surely  there  must  be  some  cause  !  Have 
you  kept  any  thing  hidden  from  me  ?  Speak, 
Francis  !  —  you  left  him  well,  did.  you 
not?"  and  she  grasped  my  arm,  and 
looked  earnestly  in  my  face. 

"I  did,  Lilian." 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  You  must  have  no 
secrets  from  me  now,  you  know." 

I  must  tell  her,  I  thought,  and  there 
can  never  be  a  better  time  than  this. 

"  Lilian,"  I  began,  and  my  voice  trem 
bled  as  I  spoke  :  "  Lilian,  I " 

"  What  ho  !  my  lovers,  are  you  here  ?  " 
shouted  a  merry  voice.  "  I  thought  1 
should  find  you  here  ; "  and  the  next  mo 
ment  we  were  joined  by  the  gay,  light- 
hearted  Eva  Mortimer.  "  In  the  name  of 
humanity,"  she  said,  as  she  came  bound 
ing  up  to  us,  "  what  makes  you  both  look 
so  pale  ?  Not  making  love  again,  I  hope  ; '; 
and  she  ended  with  a  ringing  laugh,  which, 
however  pleasant  it  might  have  sounded 
at  another  time,  now  jarred  most  discord 
antly  with  the  feelings  of  both. 

"  No,  not  exactly  making  love,  Miss 
Mortimer,"  I  answered,  turning  to  her 
with  a  forced  smile,  and,  if  truth  must  be 
owned,  rather  rejoiced  than  otherwise  that 
she  had  broken  off  what  must  have  proved 
a  painful  interview. 

"  Well,"  she  rejoined,  playfully,  brush 
ing  back  her  dark  ringlets  with  one  of  the 
prettiest  white,  dimpled  hands  in  the  world 
—  mind  I  say  one  of  the  prettiest,  reader, 
for  of  course  I  considered  Lilian's  equal, 
if  not  superior  :  "  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear 
that,  for  I  feared,  from  your  sober  looks, 
you  were  either  getting  into  a  lover's 
quarrel,  or  going  over  a  nameless  scene 
that  was  enacted  here  some  weeks  ago  ;  " 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


and  she  looked  meaningly,  first  at  Lilian, 
who  colored  deeply,  and  then  *t  me,  who 
I  fancied  stood  it  like  a  philosopher. 
"  Come,"  she  added,  in  the  same  gay  tone, 
"  I  have  use  for  you  both  all  day.  We — 
that  is  I,  and  my  good  mother,  and  yours, 
Lilian,  and  some  others  —  have  decided 
on  going  to  see  a  beautiful  lake,  which,  we 
are  told,  ornaments  a  certain  fern  bluff 
tha;  you  see  away  yonder,  some  half  mile 
back  of  this  magnificent  city.  City  in 
deed  ! "  she  continued,  with  a  curl  of  the 
lip.  "  Why,  it  might  be  stolen  from  the 
suburbs  of  Boston,  or  any  other  place  of 
note,  and  never  be  missed.  But  mother 
would  come  in  spite  of  me,  and  when  she 
takes  a  notion  in  her  head  she  must  carry 
it  out.  She  wishes  herself  back  now,  and 
I  join  her  with  all  my  heart ;  but,  heigh- 
ho  !  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  spend  my 
days  here,  for  I  see  no  means  of  getting 
away.  But  I  will  tease  her,  though  —  I 
am  pledged  to  that — and  that  will  be  some 
comfort,  and  save  me  dying  of  ennui, 
Oregon  City  !  LTmph  !  I  thought  it  would 
turn  out  to  be  woods  before  I  came,  and  I 
told  her  so — but  she  would  not  believe  me. 
Come,  Mr.  Leighton,  don't  be  standing 
there  looking  so  sober  !  nor  you,  my  bon- 
nv  Lilian.  I  am  going  to  have  vou  alonof, 

^  * 

and  if  I  don't  make  you  laugh,  why,  I  will 
turn  in  and  cry  myself.  Only  to  think  of 
being  here  without  a  lover!  It  don't  mat 
ter  with  you,  Lilian,  for  you  have  got  one  ; 
but  think  of  me,  in  pity  do  !  Nobody  here 
but  some  thick-headed  rustics  that  don't 
know  how  to  make  love.  I  wish  your 
brother  would  come,  Lilian  —  I  am  dying 
to  see  him.  He  saved  my  life,  you  know, 
and  so  I  am  bound,  by  all  the  rules  of  no 
vels,  to  fall  in  love  with  him  out  of  pure 
gratitude." 

"  You  will  not  need  gratitude,  I  fancy," 
added  I,  with  a  sigh  at  the  thought  of  him, 
"  Should  you  ever  be  fortunate  enough  to 
see  him  ;  for  he  is  a  noble  fellow,  and  one 
I  think  to  your  liking." 

"  Ah  !"  she  replied,  "  you  need  not  tell 
mr  he  is  a  noble  fellow — for  none  but  such 
would  have  risked  his  life  as  he  did  for  a 
s'ranger.  I  have  been  in  love  with  him  ever 
since  I  heard  about  it,  though  I  had  long 
ago  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  him." 

"  And  he  will  be  ready,  I  will  vouch  for 
him.  to  reciprocate  the  tender  feeling." 


"  Do  you  think  so?"  she  said,  slightly 
blushing,  and  her  eyes  sparkling.  "  0, 
that  will  be  so  romantic  !  and  I  love  ro 
mance  dearly.  I  will  have  him  down  upon 
his  knees  at  every  frown,  and  will  frown 
twenty  times  a  day,  just  to  have  him  down 
on  his  knees.  Now  that  will  be  making 
love  to  some  purpose,  eh  ?  "  and  giving 
vent  to  a  ringing  laugh,  she  added,  taking 
my  arm  :  "  Come,  don't  let  us  keep  the 
good  people  waiting,  or  they  may  get  of} 
the  notion,  and  I  would  not  miss  ^eeing 
the  lake  for  a  costly  ruby." 

My  design  of  telling  a  sad  tale  was  thus 
broken  off,  and,  as  I  said  before,  I  was 
not  sorry  for  it.  Arm  in  arm  with  the 
two,  I  returned  to  what  was  denominated 
the  village,  Eva  the  while  chatting  awaj 
gaily,  flying  from  one  thing  to  another,  but 
ever  adroitly  returning  to  Charles  Huntly, 
showing  that  he  now  occupied  no  small 
share  of  her  thoughts. 

From  the  specimen  given,  it  will  be  seen 
that  Eva  Mortimer  was  a  very  different 
being  from  Lilian  Huntly  ;  and  as  she  is 
destined  to  figure  more  conspicuously  in 
these  pages  than  the  previous  ones,  I  con 
sider  the  present  a  good  opportunity  to 
describe  her. 

In  person,  Eva  Mortimer  was  slightly 
above  medium,  with  a  form  well  devel 
oped,  and  a  bust  of  rare  beauty.  Her 
complexion  was  clear  and  dark,  though 
scarcely  sufficient  to  entitle  her  to  the.  ap 
pellation  of  brunette.  Her  soft,  hazel 
eyes,  shaded  by  silken  lashes,  were  verj 
expressive,  and  could  look  love  languish- 
ingiy,  or  sparkle  with  the  poetry  of  mirth, 
anger,  or  any  of  the  passions  of  impulse. 
Her  features  were  regular  and  very  pre 
possessing,  with  a  nose  slightly  acquiliue, 
and  mouth  and  lips  as  tempting  as  one 
would  care  to  look  upon.  Her  disposition 
accorded  with  her  looks.  At  heart  she 
was  open  and  generous,  with  a  desire  to 
please  and  be  pleased,  let  fortune  smile  or 
frown.  Her  spirits  were  almost  ever  buoy 
ant,  and  it  required  a  strong  cause  to  de 
press  them.  Very  different  from  some, 
she  could  not  easily  be  brought  to  consider 
this  bright  earth  as  only  a  grave  yard,  and 
herself  a  mournful  inhabitant,  ever  stalk 
ing  among  tombs.  She  uid  not  believe  in 
storm,  and  cloud,  and  dreariness,  so  much 
as  in  an  open  sky,  sunshine,  cheerfulness 


10 


LEN1    LEO!  I;    OR, 


and  joy.  It  would  have  required  great 
•  lepth  ot  reasoning  to  convince  her  that 
God  haa  placed  man  here  expressly  to 
mope  out  his  days  in  gloom  and  sorrow, 
either  real  or  imaginary.  She  did  not 
ihncy  the  dark  side  of  the  picture  ;  and 
full  of  the  poetry  of  an  ardent  tempera 
ment,  there  was  to  her  in  the  sunshine,  the 
breeze,  the  leaf,  the  blade,  the  flower,  the 
mount,  the  vale,  the  storm,  and,  in  fact, 
in  everything  of  nature,  something  to 
excite  joy  rather  than  sadness.  What 
ever  her  fortune,  she  took  care  to  make 
the  best  of  it  and  not  repine.  She  was 
lively 'even  to  gayety,  and  could  rattle  on 
for  hours  in  a  light,  frolicsome  strain,  cal 
culated  tc  mislead  such  as  look  not  below 
the  mere  surface  ;  but  those  who  judged 
Eva  Mortimer  by  this,  judged  wrongly  ; 
for  beneath  was  a  heart  as  warm,  as  ear 
nest,  as  pure,  as  true,  as  ever  beat  in  the 
breast  of  woman.  This  wras  the  drift,  the 
foam,  that  floated  along  on  the  strong  cur 
rent  of  a  noble  mind.  Had  you  seen  and 
listened  to  her  in  her  merry  moods,  you 
would  have  thought,  perhaps,  she  had  no 
mind  above  trifles,  or  beyond  the  mere 
present ;  that  she  was  vain  and  coquettish 
to  a  fault ;  that  she  would  take  no  delight 
in  serious  meditation ;  and  yet  you  could 
not  easily  have  erred  more  in  judgment. 
I  have  seen  her  alone,  in  the  night,  gazing 
at  the  stars  for  hours,  when  she  thought 
no  human  eye  beheld  her.  I  have  watched 
her  musing  over  a  flower,  while  leaf  by 
'leaf  she  dissected  it,  as  if  to  lay  bare  its 
mysteries  —  over  the  pebbles  which  she 
had  gathered  in  some  ramble — over  a  leaf, 
a  blade  of  grass,  and,  in  fact,  over  what 
ever  had  chanced  in  her  path — in  a  way 
to  show  her  possessed  of  mind,  and  that 
of  the  highest  order. 

There  were  but  few  m  her  present  lo 
cality  who  really  knew  Eva  Mortimer,  and 
none  who  seemed  to  appreciate  her  as  did 
Lilian.  In  their  short  acquaintance,  these 
two  bright  being-s  had  become  friends;  not 
the  cold,  unmeaning  term  of  the  world  — 
but  friends  sincere  and  true,  and  bound  by 
a  tie  beyond  the  power  of  death  itself  to 
Kevt-r.  Like  the  magnet  and  the  needle 
had  they  come  together,  to  be  held  by  at 
tractions  peculiar  to  themselves.  To  each 
other  their  hearts  were  ever  open,  and  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  the  one,  were  the  joys 


and  sorrows  of  the  other.  They  talked 
together,  walked  together,  read  together, 
(each  had  brought  a  few  choice  books,) 
sang  together,  and  both  ever  seemed  hap 
pier  on  all  occasions  for  the  other's 'pre 
sence.  They  were  nearly  of  the  same 
age,  of  different  temperaments,  and  united 
like  the  different  strings  of  a  harp,  to 
bring  forth  nothing  but  music.  In  short, 
they  loved  each  other — not  with  the  eva 
nescent  love  of  fiery  passion,  which  burns 
and  freezes  alternately  —  but  with  that 
deeper  and  truer  love  which  springs  from 
admiration  of,  and  dependence  on,  in  a 
measure,  the  qualities  we  do  not  possess 
ourselves.  It  was  a  holy  love — the  love 
of  two  fair  maidens  just  budding  into 
womanhood. 

Am  I  getting  tedious,  reader — presum 
ing  too  much  upon  your  indulgence — keep 
ing  you  too  long  from  the  more  exciting 
part  of  my  story  ?  Well,  then,  I  will  press 
forward  ;  .for  much  is  to  be  said  and  done 
ere  my  task  be  finished. 

Of  the  early  history  of  Eva  Mortimer,  ] 
at  this  time  knew  but  little,  and  this  I  had 
gleaned  from  Lilian.  Her  mother,  a  wo 
man  between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age, 
was  a  native  of  England,  of  wealthy  pa 
rentage,  but  not  of  noble  birth.  Some 
twenty-five  years  before  the  date  of  these 
events,  she  had  clandestinely  married  a 
French  exile,  apparently  without  name  01 
fortune,  rather  for  tin?  love  of  romance, 
and  because  she  vas  strongly  opposed  by 
her  friends,  than  for  any  real  affection 
which  she  felt  toward  the  individual  him 
self.  This  proceeding  had  so  incensed  hei 
parents,  that  they  had  cast  her  off;  but 
unlike  most  parents  in  such  cases,  unwil 
ling  she  should  suffev  too  much,  had  offered 
her  a  life  annuity  above  want,  on  condition 
she  quitted  the  country  immediately  and 
returned  to  it  no  moi-e.  To  this  she  had 
readily  assented,  and  shortly  after,  with 
her  husband,  had  embarked  for  America, 
and  had  finally  settled  a*.  Quebec,  in  Can 
ada,  where  for  several  years  they  had 
continued  to  live  togethrr.  though  not.  it 
must  be  confessed,  in  the  ir>os<,  harmonious 
manner.  Being  rather  hoftd-sfrong  and 
self-willed,  and  withal  possessed  of  an  in 
dependence,  Madame  Mortimer  Fought  to 
have  evervthing  her  own  way,  and  h*d  Dot 
scrupled  occasionally  to  make  her 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


II 


Feel  he  was  her  debtor  for  every  lux- 
ary  lie  enjoyed.  Of  a  proud  spirit,  and  a 
temper  somewhat  irritable,  he  had  not 
displayed  any  too  much  Christian  hu 
mility,  meekness  and  resignation,  and 
many  a  bitter  quarrel  had  been  the  con 
sequence. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  at  the  end  of  five 
years  she  had  given  birth  to  female  twins. 
Both  had  been  hoping  for  a  male  heir  ;  and 
consequently  this  event,  instead  of  mend 
ing,  had  rather  served  to  widen  the  breach. 
Quarrel  succeeded  quarrel,  and  as  love 
was  wanting  to  harmonize  two  opposing 
spirits,  it  was  at  last  found  necessary  to 
separate.  Two  years  had  passed  mean 
time,  when  one  morning  Mortimer  came 
into  the  presence  of  his  wife,  with  a  letter 
in  his  hand,  and  abruptly  announced  his 
intention  of  leaving  her. 

"  As  you  like,"  returned  Madame  Mor 
timer,  coolly. 

Mortimer  turned  and  left  her,  nor  had 
she  ever  beheld  him  since.  The  night 
following,  the  twin  sister  of  Eva  disap 
peared,  and  the  most  diligent  inquiries, 
together  with  the  offer  of  a  large  reward, 
had  failed  in  restoring  her  to  her  anxious 
mother.  The  effect  of  this  upon  Madame 
Mortimer  proved  very  severe  —  for  she 
loved  both  her  children  dearly — and  a  ner 
vous  fever  was  the  result,  which  nearly  cost 
her  her  life.  Soon  after  this  she  received 
news  of  her  father's  death,  and  that,  hav 
ing  repented  his  rashness,  he  had  left 
her  a  rich  legacy,  with  permission  to  re 
turn  to  England.  To  England,  therefore, 
she  went,  and  there  had  remained,  super 
intending  the  education  of  Eva,  until  a 
desire  of  travel  had  brought  her  once  more 
to  this  country,  whither  she  had  come  in 
company  with  her  daughter  and  a  wealthy 
American  lady,  whose  acquaintance  had 
been  made  across  the  water,  and  who 
subsequently  introduced  her  into  New- 
York  society,  simply  as  Madame  Mortimer, 
without  a  word  of  explanation,  this  being 
at  her  own  earnest  request.  Thus  it  was, 
as  I  have  before  mentioned,  none  who  met 
her  in  society  had  been  able  to  learn  who 
jhe  was  or  whence  she  came,  and  this  had 
doubtless  added  to  her  popularity.  This 
was  all  I  had  been  able  to  gather  frcm 
Lilian,  and  all,  in  fact,  she  knew  ;  and  ibis 
had  been  picked  up  at  different  times,  from  ; 


remarks  that  had  escaped  the  lips  of  Eva 
in  her  more  communicative  moods. 

In  person,  Madame  Mortimer  was  large, 
with  a  full,  handsome  countenance,  ex 
pressive  black  eyes,  and  a  bearing  digni 
fied  and  queen-like.  At  heart  she  was 
kind  and  affectionate  ;  and  doubtless,  had 
she  been  properly  mated,  would  have 
made  an  exemplary  wife.  Her  passions, 
when  excited,  were  strong  to  violence, 
with  a  temper  haughty  and  unyielding  to 
an  equal,  but  subdued  and  mild  to  an  infe 
rior.  She  loved  passionately,  and  hated 
madly.  With  her,  as  a  general  thing, 
there  was  no  medium.  She  liked  or  dis 
liked,  and  carried  both  to  extremes.  She 
was  a  woman  of  strong  mind,  much  given 
to  thought  and  reflection,  an  acute  ob 
server  of  everything  around  her,  and  just 
sufficiently  eccentric  to  throw  the  freshness 
of  originality  over  all  she  said  or  did. 
She  would  do  what  she  thought  was  proper, 
without  regard  to  the  opinion  of  others,  or 
what  the  world  would  say.  She  had 
resolved  on  a  journey  to  Oregon,  not  for 
any  particular  purpose,  but  merely  to  carry 
out  a  whim,  and  see  the  country.  She  had 
done  both,  was  dissatisfied  with  her  present 
locality,  and  now  designed  returning  to  the 
States  the  first  favorable  opportunity. 

But  to  return  from  this  digression. 

Of  the  fate  of  her  brother,  Lilian  still 
remained,  ignorant ;  for  after  the  interrup 
tion  of  Eva,  I  could  never  summon  enough 
moral  courage  to  again  attempt  the  sad 
narration.  As  time  rolled  on,  I  becamr 
more  and  more  depressed  in  spirits,  ana 
more  perplexed  as  to  the  course  I  should 
pursue.  It  was  not  impossible,  I.  began 
to  reason,  that  Charles  Huntly  might  be 
living;  and  the  more  I  pondered  on  this, 
the  more  I  was  inclined  to  believe  it  the 
case.  He  had  been  lost  mysteriously,  in 
a  part  of  the  world  notoriously  infested 
with  robbers  and  Indians.  If  captured  by 
the  former,  there  was  no  argument  against 
the  supposition  that  he  had  been  plun 
dered  and  sold  into  slavery.  If  by  the 
latter,  might  he  not  have  been  adopted  by 
some  tribe,  and  now  be  a  prisoner  ?  In 
either  case,  was  I  not  in  duty  bound  to  go 
in  quest  of  him,  and,  if  found,  to  rescue 
him  from  a  horrible  doom,  either  by  ransom 
or  force  ?  At  all  events,  I  said  to  myself, 
I  can  but  fail,  and  HUM  succeed. 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


On  leaving  homo,  I  had  supplied  myself 
with  a  large  amount  of  gold  to  meet  all 
contingencies,  and  but  little  of  this  had 
been  expended.  I  could,  perhaps,  engage 
:i  party,  for  a  reasonable  sum,  to  accom 
pany  me  ;  and  this,  after  duly  weighing  all 
the  circumstances,  I  had  decided  to  at- 
hjmpt  ou  the  morning  1  have  chosen  for 
the  opening  of  this  chapter.  I  would  let 
Lilian  and  the  others  suppose  I  had  gone 
home,  and  that  I  should  probably  return 
with  Charles  Huntly.  Having  settled  the 
matter  in  my  own  mind,  I  resolved  on 
immediate  action,  and  for  this  purpose 
called  Teddy  aside  to  communicate  my 
intention. 

"  Teddy,"  I  began,  gravely,  "did  you 
love  your  former  master  ?  " 

"  Me  masther  !  "  repeated  the  Irishman, 
with  a  look  of  curious  inquiry,  "  and  sure, 
of  who  is't  ye're  speaking,  your  honor  ?  " 

"Of  Charles  Huntly." 

"Did  I  love  him,  is't?  Fakh,  and 
does  a  snapping  turtle  love  to  bite,  or  a 
drunkard  to  drink,  that  ye  ax  me  that 
now  ? — Love  him  ?  Troth,  and  was  he 
living,  I'd  go  to  the  ind  of  the  world  and 
jump  off  jist  to  plase  him,  and  so  1  would." 

"  Maybe,  Teddy,  you  can  serve  him 
more  effectually  than  by  a  proceeding  so 
dangerous." 

"  Sarve  him,  is't !  Och,  now,  I'd  be 
after  knowing  that  same  !  " 

•<  I've  taken  a  fancy  into  my  head  that 
he  is  living." 

"  Howly  St.  Pathrick  !  ye  don't  say  the 
likes!  "  exclaimed  the  Hibernian,  hoiiiing 
up  both  hands  in  astonishment.  "  Ye're 
joking,  sure,  your  honor?" 

"No,  Teddy,  I  am  serious  as  a  judge. 
I  have  always  had  some  faint  doubts  of 
his  death,  and  now  these  doubts  have 
grown  strong  enough  to  induce  me  to  set 
off  in  search  of  him ;"  and  I  proceeded  to 
give  my  reasons. 

"  Ah,  sure,"  said  Teddy,  as  I  concluded, 
"  This  is  a  happy  day  for  me  mother's  son, 
if  nothing  comes  on't  but  parting  wid— 
wid •" 

"But,  Teddy,  I  had  designed  taking 
you  along." 

"  And  sure,  Misther  Leigh  ton,  is'nt  it 
gomcr  1  is  wid  ye,  now  ?  D'ye  think  I'd 
nc-  afther  staving  behind,  like  a  spalpeen, 
and  ye  away  afther  Misiher  Huntly,  pace 


to  his  ashes,  barring  that  lie's  got  no  ashes 
at  all,  at  all,  but  is  raal  flish  and  blood 
like  your  own  bonny  self,  that's  one  of  the 
kindest  gintlemen  as  iver  wore  out  shoe 
maker's  iixings,  and  made  the  tailor  blush 
wid  modesty  for  the  ixcillent  fit  ;f  his  coat?" 

"But  you  spoke  of  parting,  Teddy  !  " 

"  Ah,  troth,  and  ye  a  gallant  yourself, 
your  honor,  and  not  sae  it  was  a  wee  bit 
of  a  female  parthingl'smintioning,  jist  ?  " 

"  Female  parting !  I  do  not  understand 
you." 

Here  TedJy  scratched  his  head,  and 
looked  not  a  little  confused. 
.  "  Why,  ye  sae',  your  honor,"  he  replied, 
hesitatingly,  "  ye  sae  the  womens  (Heaven 
bliss  their  darling  sowls  !)  is  all  loveable 
crathurs,  and  it's  mesilf  that  likes  to  maat 
'em  whereiver  I^goes ;  but  somehow,  your 
honor,  a  chap's  like  to  be  thinking  of  one, 
more  in  particular  by  mason  of  his  nathur  ; 
and  that's  the  case  wid  mesilf  now,  and 
Molly  Stubbs  that  lives  yonder,  barring 
that  it's  hardly  living  at  all  that  she  is  in 
this  wild  counthry." 

The  truth  flashed  upon  me  at  once. 
One  of  the  settlers,  who  had  come  here  in 
Advance  of  my  friends,  had  a  large,  buxom, 
rosy-cheeked  daughter  of  eighteen,  wl.o 
went  by  the  euphonious  appellation  of 
Molly  Stubbs — sometimes,  J3ig  Molly-- 
and  I  now  remembered  having  seen  Teddy 
idling  about  the  premises,  though  at  tl « 
time,  without  a  suspicion  of  the  real  causa. 

"  And  so,  Teddy,  yo-u  have  been  making 
love,  eh  ?" 

'•  Divil  a  bit,  your  honor." 

"How?   what?" 

"  No  !  ye  sae  it  was  all  made  to  me  han'd, 
and  I've  ounly  been  acting  it  out,  jist." 

"  Aha  !  exactly.  And  so  you  think  you 
can  part  with  your  belle  ami,  eh  ?  " 

"And  sure,  if  it's  Molly  Stubbs  you 
maan  by  that  Lathin,  it's  mesilf  that  can 
say  the  farewell  handsome,  now." 

"  Well,  make  your  parting  short,  and 
then  see  to  having  the  horses  got  ready, 
for  in  less  than  three  hours  we  must  be  in 
our  saddles." 

With  this  I  turned  away,  and  with  slow 
steps,  and  a  heart  by  no  means  the  light 
est,  sought  the  residence  of  Lilian  to  com 
municate  the  unpleasant  intelligence,  that 
in  a  few  minutes  we  must  part,  perhaps  to 
meet  no  more. 


A  D  VENTU  RES-   IN     THE     FAR     WEST. 


13 


CHAPTER    II. 

ISFORM  MY   B'KIENDS   OF    MV   RESOLVE THEIR 

SURl'KISE DEPARTURE     POSTI'OXEI)     ONE 

DAY PREPARATIONS GENERAL    LEAVE- 
TAKING TRYING  INTERVIEW  WITH  LILIAN, 

A.ND  FINAL  ADIEU. 

As  I  neared  the  residence  of  Mrs. 
(luntly  and  Lilian,  (which  had  also  been 
mine  for  some  months)  for  the  purpose  of 
bidding  my  friends  another  Ion/  adieu,  I 
heard  the  merry  voice  and  ringing  laugh 
of  Eva  Mortimer.  Another  time  this 
would  have  been  music  to  my  ears  ;  but 
now  my  spirits  were  greatly  depressed, 
and  I  was  not  in  a  mood  to  appreciate  it. 
The  cabin — it  would  scarcely  bear  a  more 
exalted  title — seemed  surrounded  with  an 
air  of  gloom.  It  was  as  good  as  any,  bet 
ter  than  most,  which  formed  the  village  of 
Oiegon  City  ;  but  yet,  what  a  place  to  be 
the  abode  of  those  who  had  been  used  all 
their  lives  to  the  luxurious  mansion  of 
wealth  !  —  and  I  could  not  avoid  making  a 
comparison  between  the  condition  of  the 
tenants  now,  and  when  I  had  approached 
to  bid  them  farewell  some  three  years  be 
fore — nor  of  thinking  with  what  Christian- 
like  resignation  they  had  borne,  and  still 
bore,  their  misfortunes.  Their  present 
dwelling  was  built  of  unhewn  logs,  whose 
crevices  were  iilled  with  clay,  had  a 
thatched  roof,  puncheon  floors,  and  three 
apartments.  One  of  these  had  been  as 
signed  to  Teddy  and  myself,  another  to 
Lilian  and  her  mother,  and  the  third  an 
6wered  the  treble  uses  of  parlor,  sitting- 
room  and  kitchen.  A  few  beds  and 
bedding,  a.  table,  one  or  two  chairs,  to 
gether  with  a  few  benches,  and  the  most 
common  househould  utensils,  comprised 
the  principal  furniture.  And  this  was  the 
abode  of  the  lovely  and  once  wealthy 
heiress,  Lilian  Huntly  !  And  she  could 
seem  contented  here  I  What  a  happy 
epirit,  to  adapt  itself  to  all  circumstances — 
to  blend  itself,  if  I  may  so  express  it, 
with  every  fortune  ! 

Witli  this  reflection  I  crossed  the  thresh- 
told,  arid  beheld  Lilian  and  Eva  in  gay 
com  ersation,  and  Mrs.  Huntly  seated  by 


the  table,  perusing  a  book.  Both  the 
young  ladies  turned  to  me  as  I  entered,  and- 
Eva  at  once  exclaimed  : 

"  So,  Mr.  Francis,  you  have  just  come 
in  time — we  have  it  all  settled." 

"  May  I  inquire  what  ? "  returned  I, 
gravely. 

"  May  you  inquire  what  ?  "  she  repeated. 
with  a  playful  curl  of  the  lip.  "  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  starch,  ministerial  look, 
Lilian  ? — as  grave  is  lie  as  a  sexton.  Why, 
one,  would  suppose  all  his  friends  v/e.re 
dead,  and  he  had  come  to  invite  us  to  the 
iuneral.  Heigh-ho!  if  ever  I  get  a  lover, 
he  shall  wear  no  such  look  as  that;  if  he 
do,  it  will  be  at  the  risk  of  having  his  hab 
combed  and  powdered,  I  assure  you." 

"  But  I  have  reason  fur  looking  grave," 
I  replied. 

"Eh  1  what!"  cried  Eva,  changing  in 
stantly  her  whole  expression  and  manner  ; 
"  Surely  you  have  no  bad  news  for  us  ?  " 
and  she  approached  and  laid  her  hand 
upon  my  arm,  with  a  troubled  look,  while 
Lilian  sunk  down  upon  a  seat,  as  if  she  had 
some  sad  foreboding,  and  Mrs.  Huntly 
turned  her  eyes  upon  me  inquiringly. 

"  Give  yourselves  no  alarm,"  I  hastened 
to  reply.  "  I  have  only  come  to  say,  we 
must  separate  for  a  time." 

"  Indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Eva,  looking  se 
rious  . 

"You  have  heard  tidings  of  Charles  ?" 
added  Mrs.  Huntly. 

I  glanced  at  Lilian,  but  she  said  not  a 
word,  though  all  color  had  forsaken  her 
features. 

"  No,  I  have  not  heard  from  Charles/' 
I  rejoined,  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Huntly ; 
"  but  presume  I  shall  ere  I  return." 

"Good  hea\ens!  then  you  are  going 
far  ?  "  cried  Eva,  in  astonishment. 

"  I  contemplate  making  a  journey  to  the 
east,  and  may  meet  Charles  on  the  way, 
in  which  case  I  shall  return  at  once- 
otherwise,  I  may  be  abse.nt  the  summer." 

"  Why,  Francis,  what  has  made  you  re 
solve  thus  so  suddenly  ?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
Huntly.  "  How  are  we  to  do  without  you  ? 
I  thought — (she  paused  and  glanced  to 
ward  Lilian,  who  had.  turned  her  head  aside 
and  seemed  deeply  affected,) — that— -that 
you  intended  to  pass  the  summer  with 
us." 

"Cruel  man,"  said  Eva,  in  a  whisper, 


14 


LENI    L  E  0  T  1 ,  •  0  R , 


"how  can  you  leave  the  sweetest  being  on 
earth  ?  0,  you  men  !  "  And  then  she 
continued  aloud:  "I  wish  we.  were  all 
going  with  you.  Can  you  not  take  us  till 
along  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  fear  it  would  not  be  safe." 

"A*  safe  as  it  is  here,  I  am  certain. 
Surely  we  could  not  be  more  than  killed 
if  we  went,  and  who  knows  but  some 
of  these  Indians,  that  are  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  our  great  city  here,  may  take  a 
notion  we  have  lived  long  enough,  and  so 
murder  us  all,  or  marry  us,  which  would 
be  the  same  thing  !  Bui  whoever  knew  a 
gentleman  gallant,  enough  to  do  what  was 
asked  of  him?  Ah!  I  see — you  don't 
even  listen  now — your  thoughts  are  all 
with  somebody  else— and  so  i  will  retire. 
Let  me  know  when  it  is  over,  as  I  wish  to 
bid  you  adieu  ;"  and  she  darted  out  of  the 
room. 

Mrs.  Huntly  was  on  the  point  of  inter 
rogating  me  farther,  but  perceiving  by  a 
sign  from  Lilian  that  the  latter  wished  to 
6e"e  me  alone,  she  made  some  excuse,  and 
went  into  an  adjoining  apartment.  The 
moment  she  had  disappeared,  Lilian  sprang 
up  and  flew  into  my  arms. 

"  Is  this  true,  Francis  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 
"Are  you  really  going  to  leave  .us  ?  " 

"  I  fear  I  must  for  a  time,"  I  said,  in  a 
not  very  lirm  voice. 

"A  longtime  then,"  sighed  the  fair  girl  ; 
"  a  long  time,  if  you  are  going  east.  0, 
Francis,  I  did  not  think  we  should  part  so 
soon  !  What  have  you  heard  ?  Some 
thing,  surely — for  you  have  never  intima 
ted  this  before — and  you  would  not  deceive 
one -who  loves  you  !  "  • 

This  was  said  so  touchingly,  with  such 
naivete,  that  for  a  time  1  only  replied  by 
pressing  her  more  closely  to  my  heart,  and 
imprinting  a  kiss  upon  her  ruby  lips. 

"I  cannot  tell  my  Lilian  everything,"  I 
at  length  made  answer.  "Suffice,  that  I 
have  important  reasons  for  going ;  and 
sometime,  God  willing,  you  shall  know  all. 
My  resolution  to  leave  was  formed  to-day, 
and  to-day  we  must  part.'' 

"  To-day  ?  "  she  gasped,  and  I  felt  her 
whole  form  quiver  Tike  a  reed  shaken  by 
ehe  wind.  "  0,  no  !  not  to-day,  Francis  ! 
that,  would  be  too  much — too  sudden  ! 
You  must  not  go  to-day  !  " 

"  Why  not,  dearest '?     I  shall  return  one 


day  sooner  for  it  doubtless  ;  and  it  will  1* 
as  hard  to  part  to-morrow  as  to-day." 

"  But  it  is  so  sudden — so  unexpected," 
she  pleaded.  "  Delay  till  to-morrow, 
Francis  !  " 

"  Well,  anything  to  please  you,"  and  I 
stamped  the  promise  with  the  seal  of  love. 
"  Be  cheerful  as  vou  can  in  my  abtrrce, 
Lilian,  and  when  1  return  with  youi 
brother " 

"0,  then  you  are  £>-oin<>-  to  find  him  !  ' 
she  exclaimed,  interrupting  me.  "  Thar 
return  will  be  jovml  indeed !  Poo* 
Charles  !  If  you  do  not  meet  him  on  the 
way,  most  likely  you  v?iil  in  Boston.  Cheer 
him  all  you  can,  Francis,  and  tell  him  v/fl 
are  as  happy  as  cux'unistances  will  allo* 
us  to  be." 

"Beg  pardon,  your  honor,"  said  the 
voice  of  Teddy  at  this  moment,  startling 
Lilian,  like  a  frightened  roe,  from  my 
arms.  "  Beg  pardon  for  interrupting  yeen 
— but  the  baast  ye  buyed  this  while  ag<v 
is  not  iny where  to  my  knowing." 

"Never  mind,  Teddy,  go  and  hunt  it 
It  must  be  about,  unless  the  Indians  havt- 
stolen  it,  in  which  case  I  must  get  an 
other.  Hunt  for  it  —  I  shall  not  leave 
to-day." 

"  Troth,  thin,  I'll  'av  another  parthiag 
mesilf,  jist,"  returned  Teddy,  as  he  dis 
appeared  with  a  pleased  look. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Huntly,  hearing 
another  voice,  reappeared,  and  my  tete-a- 
tete  with  Lilian  was  for  the  present  broken 
ott'.  The  former  had  a  great  many  ques 
tions  to  ask  me — why  I  had  decided  leav 
ing  so  suddenly — when  I  expected  to  reach 
Boston,  and  the  like — so  that  I  had  no  lit 
tle  difficulty  in  replying  in  a  way  not  to 
commit  myself.  Then  she  had  letters  to 
write  to  her  friends  ;  and  Lilian  had  let 
ters  to  prepare  also;  and  the  news  of 
my  departure  having  circulated  quickly 
through  the  village,  numbers  called  to 
see  me,  to  send  messages  and  letters  to 
their  native  land  —  so  that  with  listening 
to  their  requests,  to  an  extra  amount  ot 
advice  as  to  the  proper  mode  of  conduct 
ing  myself  under  all  circumstances,  and 
attending  to  my  own  affairs..  I  was  kepi 
busy  all  day,  without  the  opportunity 
of  another  private  interview  with  Lilian 

A  fine  horse,  which  I  had  purchased  a 
few  days  before  of  an  Indian,  was  lost- 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    \VE3T. 


15 


'.he  owner  1  suppose,  or  some  of  his  friends, 
thinking  it  best  to  recover  the  animal 
without  troubling  me  in  the  matter  at  all, 
Consequently,  another  beast  was  to  be 
procured  ;  and  as  this  was  for  Teddy,  I 
allowed  him  to  make  his  own  selection  — 
the  one  I  had  ridden  hither  still  being  in 
my  possession. 

At  last,  everything  being  prepared,  I 
retired  to  my  co'u eh,  heartily  fatigued  with 
mv  day's  work.  But  thought  was  too  busy 
to  nllow  me  much  sleep  ;  and  I  question  if 
at  least  one  other  did  not  pass  a  restless 
night  from  the  same  cause  ;  for  on  appear 
ing  in  the  morning,  I  noticed  the  features 
of  Lilian  were  very  pale,  and  her  eyes 
red  as  if  from  recent  weeping.  But  she 
seemed  firm,  ready  to  endure  the  separa 
tion,  and  uttered  not  a  single  word  of 
complaint.  I  could  have  loved  her  for 
this,  if  for  nothing  else  —  her  conduct  was 
so  womanly  and  sensible.  She  did  not 
feel  the  less,  that  she  did  not  show  it 
more,  I  knew.  She  was  about  to  part 
with  one  she  had  loved  from  childhood  — 
one  to  whom  her  heart  and  hand  were 
given  —  and  this  in  a  strange,  wild  coun 
try,  for  a  long  separation,  full  of  peril  to 
both,  with  no  certainty  of  ever  seeing  him 
again.  It  could  not  but  be  painful  to  her 
in  any  situation — doubly  so  in  the  one  she 
was  placed  —  and  I  fancy  I  appreciated 
her  noble  firmness  as  it  deserved. 

The  countenances  of  Mrs.  Huntly,  Ma 
dame  Mortimer,  Eva,  and  many  others,  a!! 
were  grave  ;  and  I  read  in  their  looks  un- 
t'eigned  sorrow  at  my  close-coming  depart 
ure.  The  morning  meal  was  partaken  in 
silence,  as  all  were  too  sad  and  full  of  deep 
thought  for  unnecessary  conversation. — 
Ere  it  was  finished,  my  friends  had  all 
collected  to  bid  me  farewell  and  God 
speed  ;  and  the  announcement  by  Teddy 
that  the  horses  were  ready,  was  the  signal 
for  me  to  begin  the  parting  scene.  Com 
mencing  with  those  I  cared  least  about, 
I  shook  each  heartily  by  the  hand,  and 
passed  from  one  to  the  other  as  rapidly  as 
possible. 

"  Francis  Lei;_;hton,"  said  Madame  Mor 
timer,  when  I  came  to  her,  and  her  hand 
|>ressed  mine  warmly,  and  her  voice  trem 
bled  as  she  spoke,  "  remember  that  to  you 
and  your  friend  my  daughter  owes  her 
lile,  and  I  a  debt  of  gratitude  that  may 


never  be  canceled.  If  my  prayers  for 
your  safe  and  happy  return  be  of  any 
avail,  you  have  them.  God  bless  you, 
sir  !  and  remember,  that  whatever  may 
happen  in  this  changing  world,  in  me, 
while  living,  you  have  a  warm  friend  ;  and 
(  approaching  and  whispering  in  my  car  ) 
so  has  Lilian  and  her  mother.  While  I 
have  aught,  they  shall  never  want.  Fare 
well,  my  friend,  farewell — but  I  hope  only 
for  a  time." 

It  may  not  surprise  the  reader,  if  I  say 
the  pressure  of  my  fingers  was  none  the 
less  for  this  information,  nor  my  heart  any 
heavier,  unless  it  was  by  the  additional 
weight  of  tears  of  joy. 

Madame  Mortimer  stepped  aside,  and  1 
turned  to  Eva.  There  was  no  merri 
ment  in  her  look  — nothing  light  upon  her 
tongue. 

"  You  have  heard  the  words  of  mother," 
she  said,  impressively.  "  They  are  not 
meaningless.  To  you  and  your  friend  I 
am  indebted  for  my  life.  My  conversa 
tion  at  times  may  have  seemed  light  and 
trifling ;  but  notwitstanding,  Francis,  I 
would  have  you  believe,  there  is  a  heart 
beneath  all  that  does  not  overlook  the 
merits  of  its  friends,  nor  feel  lightly  for 
their  welfare.  When  you  see  your  friend, 
tell  him  that  he  i?  prayed  for  daily,  by 
one  who,  though  she  never  saw,  can  never 
cease,  to  remember  him.  Adieu !  and 
may  God  bear  you  safely  through  all 
peril  !  "  and  she  turned  away,  as  if  to  hide 
a  tear. 

"Francis,"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  striving 
to  command  her  voice,  which  trembled  not 
a  little,  as  she  held  both  my  hands  in  hers  : 
"  Francis,  it  is  hard — very,  very  hard — to 
part  with  you.  But  I  suppose  I  must,  and 
hope  it  is  all  for  the  best.  I  have  had  so 
much  trouble  within  a  few  years — have 
seen  so  many  of  those  I  once  supposed 
my  frier- ds  forsake  me  —  that  it  realiy  be 
comes  grievous  to  part  with  any  of  the 
few  I  have  tried  and  not  found  wanting. 
But  go,  Francis,  and  God  protect  you ! 
Should  you  be  fortunate  enough  to  meet 
with  dear  Charles  (here  her  voice  faltered 
to  a  pause,  and  she  was  forced  to  dash 
away  the  tears  dunning  her  eyes), — !ell— • 
tell  him  all.  Break  the  matter  gently,  if 
he  does  not  already  know  it  —  and  —  and 
comfort  him  the  best  way  you  can.  My 


16 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


love,  my  deepest,  undying  love  to  your 
parents  and  all  my  friends.  There  — 
there — I  can  say  no  more — no  more.  Go, 
Francis,  and  God's  blessing  and  mine 
attend  you  !  Good-by  !  farewell  !  "  and 
shaking  my  hands  warmly,  with  her  head 
averted,  she  dropped  them  and  disappear 
ed  into  another  apartment,  seemingly  too 
much  alfected  to  tarry  longer  in  my 
presence. 

With  a  proper  delicacy,  for  which  I 
gave  them  ample  credit,  one  after  another 
departed,  until  I  was  left  alone  with  Lilian. 

While  these  several  partings  were  tak 
ing  place,  she  had  remained  served,  watch 
ing  the  whole  proceedings,  with  what 
feelings,  I  leave  lovers  to  judge.  I  now 
turned  to  her,  and  felt  the  grand  trial  was 
at  hand,  and  my  heart  seemed  in  my  very 
throat.  Her  sweet  countenance  was  pale 
and  death-like,  her  very  lips  were  white, 
and  her  eyes  full  of  tears.  There  was  no 
shyness — no  trembling  —  no  apparent  ex 
citement.  She  seemed,  as  her  heavenly 
blue  eyes  fixed  upon  mine,  rather  a  beau 
tiful  figure,  cut  from  the  purest  marble, 
cold  and  uiotionless,  than  a  living,  breath 
ing  human  being.  But  oh  !  what  thoughts, 

what    agonies    were    reading     that    soul  j  rejoiced  that  she  could  weep, 
within,    mastered    only    by  a    most  pow-    they  ceased,  and  Lilian  spoke. 
erful  will  !     With    a    step    none    of    the 
firmest,.  I    approached  and    took    a   seat 


the  being  of  your  fhot  ambition  and  love 
lay  trustingly  in  your  p.rms.  It  is  a  point 
in  the  life  of  each  and  all,  who  have  expe 
rienced  it  (and  to  none  other  are  thes? 
words  addressed  ),  which  can  never  be 
erased  from  the  tablet  of  memory  ;  and 
though  in  after  years  we  may  affect  to 
deride  it  as  silly  and  sentimental,  it  will 
come  -upon  us  in  our  reflective  moments, 
like  a  warm  sunshine  suddenly  bursting 
upon  a  late  cold  and  gloomy  landscape  ; 
and  insensibly,  as  it  were,  our  spirits  will 
be  borne  away,  to  live  over  again,  though 
briefly,  the  happiest  moments  of  our  ex- 
is'enee.  The  man  who  has  passed  the 
prime  and  vigor  of  manhood  without  ever 
having  felt  this  —  without  this  to  look 
back  to  —  I  pity  ;  for  he  has  missed  the 
purest  enjoyment  offered  to  mortal  ;  and 
his  whole  path  of  life  must  have  been 
through  a  sterile  desert,  without  one  green 
blade  or  flower  to  relieve  its  barren 
aspect. 

For  some  moments  the  heart  of  Lilian 
beat  rapidly  against   mine,  and.  her  terra 
flowed  hot  and  fast.     I  did  not  attemp';  to 
restrain  the  latter,  for  I  knew  they  would 
relief  to  an  overcharged  soul,  an  I  I 
At  leu.i'tli 


brin; 


I    will  not   detain   you   longer,   d...-ar 
Francis.     Between  you  and  I  who  knim 


by    her    side,    and    laid    my    hand    upon    each   other  so  well,  words    are  idle    and 


hers. 


iiBtixeanmer,  or  at 


least,  unt'xpressive  of 
:-er  for  your  otfn 
j  of  her  who  lores 
t  that  she  will  count 


"  Lilian,"  I  said,  in  a  scarcely  articu-    our  feelings.     Avoid  dan 
late    voice  :    "  Lilian,  the  time   has  come  j  sake,   and  for  the  sak 
to  — to  —  part."  I  you  ;  and  do  rot  forge 

She  did  not  reply  in  words — she  could  i  the  days,  the   hours,  ay,  the   minutes,  of 
not ;  but  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  ivory  j  your  absence." 

"  I  will  not,  dearest  Lilian,"  I  exclaim 
ed,  straining  her  to  my  breast,  and  pressing 
my  lips  attain  and  again  to  hers.  "I  will 


arms  encircled  my  neck,  and  her  feel 
ings  found  vent  in  tears  upon  my  heaving 
breast. 


Smile,  if  you  will,  reader— you  who  have    not  forget  what  you  have  told  me.      1  will 
;e,d  the  romantic  bounds  of  a  first  pure  i  not   forget   there   lives  an  angel 


i  win 

to  make 


passed  the  romantic  DQunos  or  a  nrsi  pui 

and  holy   passion,  and    become  identified  j  happy  my  return,  and  God  send  my  return 

with  the  cares  and  dross  of  a  money-get- 1  may  make  her  happy  also  !     Adieu,  dear- 


ting,  matter-of-fact,  dollar-and-cent-life — 
smile  if  you  will,  as  your  eye  chances  up 
on  this  simple  passage,  and  curl  your  lip 


t-st— take  heart — do  not  despond — and 
Heaven  grant  our  meeting  may  be  soon  ! 
There,  God  bless  you  !  and  holy  angels 


in  proud  disdain  of  what  you  now  consider    guard  you  !  "  and  taking  a  farewell  s; 
foolish    days  of    love-sick    sentimentality  ;j  I  gtnt!y  seated  her  as  before,  and  rushed 
but   remember,  withal,   that  in  your  long  j  from  the  cottage. 

career  of  painful  experience,  you  can  refer  |  Two  fiery  horses  stood  _  saddled  and 
to  nr  p'-riod  v.-hen  you  felt  more  happiness  j  bridled  at.  the  door,  pawing  the  earth 
more  "nnduUenitod  joy,  than  that  w^en  j  impatiently.  Everything  wts  ready  for  9 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR     WEST. 


17 


«tt\rt ;  and  snatching  the  bridle  of  one  from 
the  hand  of  Teddy,  I  vaulted  into  the 
saddle.  The  next  moment  I  was  dashing 
away  through  the  forest  at  a  dangerous 
speed,  but  one  that  could  scarcely  keep 
pace  with  my  thoughts. 


CHAPTER    III. 

A    RECKLESS    RIDE— LUDICROUS   APPEARANCE 

OF     TEDDY KILL    A     BUCK INDIANS 

FRIENDLY    SIGNS CLOSE    QUARTERS A 

TALK — (JIVE    THEM    TOBACCO TREACHERY 

- — DEATH  OF  THE  TRAITOR PURSUE    OUR 

COURSE. 

WITH  the  mind  completely  engrossed, 
the  body  often  acts  mechanically,  or  by 
instinct,  and  performs,  without  our  knowl 
edge  at  the  time,  exactly  what  reason 
would  have  dictated  ;  and  when  some 
trifling  circumstance  recalls  us  to  ourself, 
we  arouse  as  from  a  dream,  and  are  sur 
prised  at  what  has  been  accomplished 
during  our  brief  alienation. 

So  was  it  with  myself  in  the  present 
instance.  On,  on  I  sped  as  if  riding  for 
life,  my  hand  firmly  upon  the  rein,  guiding 
unerringly  my  high-mettled  beast,  and  yet 
unconscious  of  anything  external,  with 
thoughts  wild  and  painful  rushing  through 
my  b«--\in.  How  long  or  far  I  had  rid 
den  thus,  I  do  not  exactly  know ;  though 
miles  now  lay  between  me  and  Oregon 
iity  ;  nor  how  much  longer  I  should  have 
continued  at  thy  same  break-neck  speed, 
hud  my  horse  not  stumbled  and  thus 
broken  the  monotony  of  a  steady  ride,  by 
unseating  and  nearly  throwing  me  ever 
his  head. 

Recovering  rny  position,  and  reining  my 
steed 'to  a  halt,  I  found  him  covered  with 
foam,  and  very  much  blown  from  his  late 
rua  ;  and  that  I  was  upon  a  narrow  upland 
prairie,  which  stretched  away  before  me 
for  several  miles,  fringed  on  either  hand, 
ul  oo  great  distance,  with  a  beautiful  wood. 

"  Where  am  1 !  "  was  my  first  involun 
tary  exclamation — "  how  did  I  get  here 
with  a  whole  neck  ?  and  where  is  Teddy  ?" 


The  last  question  found  a  more  ready 
answer  than  either  of  the  preceding,  in  a 
shout  from  the  veritable  Teddy  O'Lagher- 
ty  himself.  I  looked  behind  and  beheld 
him  coming  as  if  on  a  race  with  death  for 
the  last  half  hour  of  his  existence.  His 
appearance  was  not  a  little  ludicrous.  His 
body  was  bent  forward  at  an  angle  of  forty- 
five  degrees,  so  as  to  allow  him  to  grasp 
the  mane  of  the  beast, — his  only  hope — 
his  feet  having  slipped  from  the  stirrups 
which  were  dangling  against  the  animal's 
flanks,  and  serving  the  purpose  of  spurs — 
while  his  hat,  for  security,  being  held  in 
his  teeth,  smothered  the  shouts  he  waa 
making  to  attract  my  attention.  Add  to 
this,  that  the  horse  had  no  guide  but  his 
own  will,  that  at  every  spring  Teddy 
bounced  from  the  saddle  to  the  imminent 
danger  of  his  neck,  and  greatly  to  the  aid 
of  his  digestive  organs,  and  an  idea  of  the 
discomfiture  of  the  poor  fellow  may  be 
formed,  as  his  horse  dashed  up  along  side 
of  mine,  and  came  to  a  dead  halt. 

It  is  said  there  is  but  one  short  step 
from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous,  and  I 
certainly  felt  the  force  of  the  proverb  on 
the  present  occasion.  I  had  been  half 
mad  with  distracting  thoughts  ;  but  every 
thing  was  now  forgotten,  and  1  burst  forth 
in  a  roar  of  laughter,  such  as  I  am  certain 
had  never  startled  those  solitudes  before. 

"Be  howly  jabers !  "  cried  Teddy,  re 
gaining  an  upright  position,  with  a  face 
the  hue  of  a  boiled  lobster,  "  is  ye  mad 
now,  ye  divil — beg  pardon  ! — your  honor 
I  maan.  Howly  jabers  !  what  a  ride  ! 
Och  !  I'm  done  for  —  claan  murlhered 
ihtirely — all  pumice  from  me  toes  upward, 
barring  me  body  and  head-piece,  jist." 

"Why,  Teddy,"  returned  I,  as  soon  aa 
I  could  get  calm  enough  to  command  my 
voice,  "  what  new  feature  of  horsemanship 
is  this  you  have  adopted  ?  I  am  sure  you 
would  make. your  fortune  in  any  circus, 
with  such  a  heroic  display  of  your  animal 
capacities." 

"  Ah  !  ye  may  laugh  and  be  d — plased 
to  yees  ;  but  it's  me  mother's  own  son  as 
feels  more  as  crying,  so  it  is.  Fortune, 
is  it,  ye  mintioned  !  Be  howly  St.  Pat 
rick's  birthday  in  the  morning  !  it's  not 
mesilf  that'ud  do  the  likes  agin  for  twinty 
on  'em.  Och!  I'm  killed  intirely — alj 
barring  the  braathing,  as  lingers  still." 


18 


LENI    LEOTI;    OR, 


"Well,  well,  Teddy,  I  trust  you  willi 
not  have  to  repeat  it,"  pursued  I  laughing. 
"  But  come — where  do  you  think  we  are  ?  " 

"Think,  is  it?  Ye  ask  me  to  think? 
Sure,  divil  of  a  think  I  'av  in  me  now.  I 
lift  it  all  on  the  road,  that  was  no  road  at 
all,  but  the  worst  traveled  counthry  I  iver 
put  eyes  on.  We  may  be  among  the  Hin 
doo  heathen,  for  all  me  knows  conthra- 
\vise  ;  for  not  a  blissed  thing  did  I  sac  on 
the  journey,  but  r-rocks,  traas  and  stumps, 
and  the  divil  knows  what  all,  and  thim  a 
going  so  fast  I's  could'nt  git  time  to  say 
good-by  to  'em." 

To  the  best  of  my  judgment,  we  had 
come  about  five  miles,  in  a  direction  due 
east.  Far  in  the  distance  before  me,  I 
now  beheld  the  lofty,  snow  crowned  peak 
of  Mount  Hood  ;  and  toward  this,  without 
farther  delay,  we  bent  our  steps,  at  a  pace 
strongly  contrasting  the  speed  which  had 
borne  us  hither. 

"Why  did  you  not  call  to  me,  when 
yo^  saw  me  riding  at  a  rate  so  fearful  ?  "  I 
inquired,  as  I  rode  along  at  a  brisk  trot. 

"  Call,  is  it  ?  "  replied  Teddy.  "  Faith  ! 
jist  ax  me  lungs  if  I  did'nt  call,  till  me 
breath  quit  coming  for  the  strain  upon 'em." 

"And  so  you  could  net  make  me  hear, 
eh?" 

"  Make  the  dead  hear  !  Och  !  I  might 
as  well  'av  called  to  a  graveyard,  barring 
the  looks  of  the  thing.  Was  ye  mad, 
your  honor  ?  " 

"  0  no,  Teddy  ;  only  a  little  excited  at 
parting  with  my  friends." 

"Ah  !  thim  same  parthings  is  mighty 
har-r-d,  now,  so  they  is,"  rejoined  Teddy, 
with  a  sigh. 

"So  you  can  speak  from  experience, 
eh?" 

"Be  me  troth,  can  I,  now  ;  and  so  can 
Molly  Stubbs,  the  swaat  crathur,  that  she 
is." 

"  Did  it  break  her  heart,  Teddy  ?  " 

"  It's  not  asy  for  me  to  say,  your  honor; 
but  it  broke  her  gridiron,  and  the  ounly 
one  she  had  at  that,  poor  dear  !  " 

"  Her  gridiron  !  "  J.  exclaimed,  strug 
gling  to  repress  my  risible  faculties,  and 
Keep  a  grave  face,  for  I  saw  Teddy  was  in 
sober  earnest,  and  apparently  totally  un 
aware  there  was  anything  ludicrous  in  his 
remark.  "  How  did  it  affir et  the  gridiron, 
Teddy  ? " 


"  Why,  ye  sac  now,  she  was  jist  holding 
it  betwaan  her  two  fingers,  and  fixing  foi 
a  fry  maybe,  whin  up  I  comes,  and  tap 
ping  her  under  the  chin,  by  raason  of  our 
ould  acquaintance,  I  sez  : 

"  '  It's  a  blissed  day  I  saw  ye  first,  me 
darling.' 

"  '  That  it  was,  Misther  O'Lagherty,'  sez 
she. 

"  'I  wish  that  first  maating  could  last 
fo river,'  sez  I. 

"  '  And  so  do  I,'  sez  she. 

" '  But  it  wo'nt,'  sez  I ;  and  thin  1 
sighed,  and  she  axed  me  what  was  the 
leather. 

"  '  Oh  !  worra  !  worra  ! '  I  sez  ;  '  it's 
about  to  part  we  is,  Molly,  dear.' 

"  '  Ye  do'nt  say  the  likes,'  sez  she  ;  and 
thin  down  come  the  gridiron,  as  if  the 
Ould  Scratch  was  a  riding  it,  smash  tipon 
(he  stone  harth,  and  into  my  arms  pitched 
Molly,  wid  a  flood  of  tears  that  made  me 
look  wathery  for  a  long  occasion. 

"Now  it's  not  what  we  did  afterwards, 
I'm  going  to  till  at  all,  at  all  ;  but  whin 
we  both  come  sensible,  our  eyes  besavr 
the  gridiron  all  broke,  and  not  wort  a  ha' 
pence.  Molly  cried,  she  did,  and  I  git 
her  a  month's  wages  to  ase  her  conscience. 
Musha,  now,  but  parthings  is  har-r-rd, 
they  is." 

In  this  and  like  manner  I  managed  to 
relieve  my  mind  of  many  gloemy  thoughts, 
which  otherwise  must  have  depressed  it. 
I  had  parted  the  second  time  with  Lilian, 
for  a  journey  equally  as  full  of  peril  as  the 
first,  and,  if  anything,  of  a  more  indefini!f 
character.  I  was  going  in  search  of  mr 
lost  friend,  it  is  true ;  but  what  littlr 
chance  had  I,  I  thought,  when  I  came  t« 
look  at  it  soberly,  of  finding  him,  even  if 
alive.  1  might  travel  thousands  on  thou 
sands  of  miles — be  months,  even  years,  or 
the  search — and  yet  be  no  nearer  revealing 
his  locality  than  when  I  set  out.  If  liv 
ing,  it  was  a  mere  chance  we  should  eve; 
meet  again  ;  nnd  nothing,  perhaps,  but  r 
kind  Providence  could  bring  us  together 
As  may  be  inferred,  when  I  qnitted  m* 
friends  in  Oregon  City,  I  had  no  definite 
plan  arranged  ;  and  now  that  I  was  really 
on  the  journey,  the  question  naturally 
arose  as  to  what  I  should  do,  how  fir,M 
to  proceed,  and  where  to  begin.  I  bail 
resolved  on  engaging  assistance,  but  wb  ••** 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WES 'I 


was  this  to  be  found  ?     For  some  time  i  \ 
puzzled  my  own  brain  •with   the  matter, 
and  then  referred  it  to  Teddy. 

Though  brought  up  in  an  humble  sphere 
of  life,  with  very  little  education,  Teddy  j 
was  nevertheless  a  keen,  shrewd  observer,  j 
and    of    excellent    judgment    in    matters  \ 
coming   within   the   range  of  his  intellect  j 
and  experience  ;  and  accordingly  I  relied 
much  upon  his  advice. 

Having  heard  the  case  fully  stated,  with 
(he  dignified  gravity  of  a  judge,  and  asked 
several  pertinent  questions,  he  replied,  that 
our  best  course,  in  his  humble  opinion, 
was  to  continue  our  present  route  as  far  as 
Fort  Hall,  where  we  would  be  likely  to 
augment  our  number  to  our  satisfaction, 
and  could  then  proceed  in  a  southerly 
direction  and  be  guided  by  succeeding 
events. 

As  this  tallied  exactly  with  my  own 
views,  the  plan  was  quickly  adopted,  and 
I  rode  forward  with  great  mental  relief, 
that  I  now  had  a  fixed  purpose,  whether 
right  or  wrong. 

For  several  miles  our  course  lay  over 
the  upland  prairie  I  have  mentioned,  and 
then  the  ground  changed  and  became 
more  rolling,  which  in  turn  gave  place  to 
hills,  sometimes  sparsely  and  sometimes 
densely  wooded,  interspersed  with  rocks, 
gullies,  and  deep  ravines,  that  greatly  im 
peded  our  progress.  We  halted  to  noon 
in  a  little  valley,  through  which,  with  a 
roaring  sound  over  its  rocky  bed,  dashed 
a  bright  stream  of  pure  water,  on  whose 
banks  grew  rich,  green  grass,  of  such 
luxuriance  as  to  satisfy  the  appetites  of 
our  animals  in  a  very  short  time. 

While  partaking  of  some  plain  food,  of 
which  we  had  a  small  store,  we  amused 
ourselves  by  overhauling  our  rifles,  exam 
ining  their  priming,  as  well  as  our  other 
weapons  and  ammunition,  and  seeing  that 
everything  was  in  proper  condition  to  meet 
danger.  Scarcely  was  this  over,  when  in 
a  whisper  Teddy  called  my  attention  to  a 
fine,  fat  buck,  which  was  trotting  along 
within  rifle  shot.  Quick  as  thought]  1 
drew  up  my  piece  and  fired.  The  animal 
instantly  bounded  forward  a  short  distance, 
reeled,  and  fell  over  upon  its  side. 

The  next  moment  we  were  on  our  way 
U)  examine  the  carcass,  and  take  from  it 
the  most  s>anable  portions  for  our  wants. 


We  had  scarcely  proceeded  twenty  paces, 
when  Teddy  grasping  my  arm,  exclaimed  : 

"Injins,  be  jabers  !  " 

And  sure  enough,  just  issuing  from  a 
clump  of  bushes  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  valley,  distant  less  than  two  hundred 
yards,  wcrv  six  half-naked  savages,  armed, 
two  of  them  with  rifles  or  muskets,  and 
the  others  with  bow.a  and  arrows.  As  it 
was  impossible  to  divine  their  intentions, 
only  by  their  acts,  and  as  they  made 
straight  toward  us,  I  snatched  Teddy's 
rifle  from  his  hands,  and  ordering  him  to 
load  mine  a,s  quick  as  possible,  raised  ft. 
to  my  shoulder,  determined,  should  they 
prove  hostile,  to  sell  my  life  dearly,  and 
die,  if  I  must,  with  the  satisfaction  of  hav 
ing  done  my  duty  in  self-defence. 

Perceiving  my  movement,  they  came  to 
a  halt,  and  made  me  friendly  signs,  by  ex 
tending  their  open  hands  and  then  placing 
them  on  their  hearts.  Dropping  the  muz 
zle  of  my  rifle,  I  did  the  same,  and  then 
waited  for  them  to  come  up,  though,  it 
must  be  confessed,  with  not  the  most  faith 
imaginable  in  their  amicable  professions. 
However,  I  kept  well  on  my  guard,  and 
by  the  time  they  had  shortened  the  first- 
mentioned  distance  between  us  by  a  hun 
dred  paces,  Teddy  coolly  announced  that 
two  bullets  were  at  their  service,  at  any 
moment  they  might  choose. 

Ere  they  joined  us,  I  had  made  them  out 
by  their  costume  and  paint,  to  belong  to 
the  Chinnook  tribe,  whose  grounds  lie  due 
north  of  Oregon  city,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  Columbia  river.  I  had  frequentlj 
seen  more  or  less  of  them  in  the  village; 
and  had,  in  fact,  purchased  the  horse, 
mentioned  as  being  stolen,  from  one  ol 
their  tribe  ;  so  that  1  now  feared  less  a  de 
sign  upon  my  life  than  upon  my  property 

The  party  in  question  were  all  inferior 
beings,  both  in  size  and  appearance;  but 
one  seemed  superior  to  the  others,  and 
possessed  of  command.  He  approached 
me  in  advance  of  his  companions,  and  held 
out  his  hand,  which  I  accepted  and  shook 
in  a  friendly  manner.  He  next  proceeded 
to  Teddy,  and  each  in  turn  followed  his 
example.  When  all  had  done,  the  chief 
addressed  me  in  broken  English: 

"Where  you  come  ?  "  , 

"The  village,  yonder,"  I  replied,  point 
ing  with  my  linger  toward  Oregon  city. 


n  E  N  1     L  E  0  T  I ;     OR, 


"Where  go?" 

"Away  beyond  the  mountains;"  and  I 
pointed  eastward. 

"  Good  muskee  (musket)  got?" 

I  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Good  hoss  got  ?" 

I  nodded  again. 

•"  Good  present  got,  eh  ?  p^i  Injin,  eh?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  but  some  tobacco  I  can 
Rpare,"  I  answered,  of  which  I  still  had  a 
pretty  good  supply. 

"Ugh  !  bacco  good,"  rejoined  the  chief, 
with  a  smile. 

This  was  in  my  sack  on  my  horse,  and 
I  was  not  sorry  of  an  excuse  to  get  to  him 
without  showing  myself  suspicious  of  my 
new  acquaintances ;  for  I  had  noticed 
many  a  wistful  glance  cast  in  that  direc 
tion,  and  I  feared  lest,  presuming  on  our 
weakness,  they  might  think  proper  to  take 
our  animals  by  a  coup  de  main,  and  leave 
us.  to  make  the  best  of  \*  Accordingly,  I 
informed  the  savage  where  the  article  was, 
and  that  I  must  go  alone  and  get  it. 

"  Why  me  no  go  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Then  your  followers  must  stay -be 
hind." 

"  Why  dey  no  go  ?  "  he  inquired,  a  little 
angrily  as  I  thought. 

"  Because  I  shall  not  permit  it,"  I  re 
plied,  decisively. 

"Ugh!  we  so — you  so,"  he  rejoined, 
holding  up  tirst  six  and  then  two  fingers, 
to  indicate  the  number  of  each  party. 
"We  strong — you  weak,  we  go,  eh  ?"  and 
he  made  a  step  forward. 

In  an  instant  the  muzzle  of  my  rifle  was 
pointed  at  his  breast,  and  my  finger  on  the 
trigger,  a  movement  imitated  by  Teddy, 
who  quickly  covered  another. 

"Another  step,  chief,"  I  said,  "  and  you 
are  a  dead  man," 

"  Back,  ye  div'ils — ye  dirthy  blaggards  ! 
d'ye  hear  the  gintleman  spaking  to  yees 
*3W  ?"  shouted  Teddy. 

This  peremptory  decision  had  a  salutary 
effect  upon  the  white-livered  knaves,  who 
Instantly  shrank  cowering  back,  the  chief 
at  once  exclaiming,  in  a  deprecating  lone  : 

"  No  shoot.     We  no  go.     You  go." 

Fearing  treachery,  we  instantly  started 

'  for  our  horses,  keeping  our  faces  to  our 

foes,  and  our  rifles  leveled,  prepared   for 

the  worst.     Having  secured  a  few  plugs 

of  ihe  desiied  article,   we  both  mounted 


and  retarned  to  the  savages,  among  whom 
I  made  an  immediate  distribution.  The 
chief  thanked  me,  and  said  they  would 
now  go  home.  Accordingly,  the  whole 
party  set  off  in  one  direction,  and  we  in 
another,  rifles  in  hand.  We  had  scarcely 
gone  twenty  paces,  when  crack  went  a 
musket  behind  us,  and  a  ball  whizzed  over 
my  head. 

"  The  treacherous  scoundrel  ! "  I  ex 
claimed  ;  and  wheeling  my  horse  as  I 
spoke,  I  beheld  the  whole  six  running  and 
dodging  for  their  lives.  Singling  out  the 
villain  that  had  fired  at  us,  I  drew  up  my 
rifle  and  pulled  trigger.  The  next  mo 
ment  he  lay  howling  in  the  dust,  deserted 
by  his  cowardly  friends,  whose  speed 
seemed  greatly  accelerated  by  this  event. 

Teddy  would  have  gone  back  for  his 
scalp,  but  this  1  would  not  permit,  both 
on  account  of  its  barbarity,  and  that  by 
delay  we  might  encounter  another  party. 
Setting  spurs  to  our  horses,  therefore,  we 
dashed  rapidly  away,  leaving  our  game 
and  foes  behind  us,  and  congratulating 
ourselves  upon  our  providential  escape. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  our  progress 
was  by  no  means  slow,  though  the  travel 
ing  at  times  most  execrable.  The  sun  was 
already  throwing  a  long  shade  to  the  east 
ward,  when,  ascending  a  rough,  stony 

O  O       *  *> 

ridge,  which  we  had  been  forced  to  do  cir- 
cuuouslv,  we  beheld  below  us  a  beautiful 
plain  of  miles  in  length  and  breadth, 
along  the  eastern  portion  of  which  towered 
the  lofty  Cascade  mountains,  with  the  ever 
lasting  snow-crowned  Mount  Hood  rising 
grandly  above  all.  till  lost  beyond  the 
clouds,  glittering  like  a  pinnacie  of  bur 
nished  silver  in  the  rays  of  the  sinking  sun. 
It  was  a  sublime  and  beautiful  scene  for 
the  painter  and  poet;  and  fo»  many  min 
utes  I  paused  and  gazed  upon  it  with  feel 
ings  of  reverence  and  awe  for  the  great 
Author  of  a  work  so  stupendous.  A  sim 
ilar  feeling  must  have  possessed  Teddy, 
for  he  instantly  crossed  himself  and  re 
peated  the  pater-noster. 

Descending  to  the  base  of  the  hill,  wu 
found  a  suitable  place  and  encamped. 
Though  greatly  fatigued,  1  did  not  rest 
well  ;  and  either  my  thoughts,  or  the  dis 
mal  howl  of  surrounding  wolv»s.  or  bear* 
combined  with  other  circumstances,  ktpl 
me  awake  most  of  the  night. 


ADVElsrURES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MOUNT     HOOD     AT     THE      CASCADES 

ARRIVE    AT    FORT    WALLA-WALLA ENLIST 

A  FRENCH  VOYAGEUR FRENCH  AND  IRISH 

-    A  QUARREL A  CHALLENGE A  FIGHT 

FOES  BECOME  FRIENDS. 

EARLY  the  following  morning  we  were 
on  our  feet,  and  having  partaken  a  slight 
repast,  we  mounted  and  set  off  toward 
Mount  Hood.  The  traveling  was  now 
good,  being  over  a  rolling  prairie,  which, 
as  we  neared  this  collossal  erection  of  na 
ture,  gradually  became  more  and  more 
level,  so  that  our  horses  being  refreshed 
and  full  of  tire,  our  speed  \vas  all  that  could 
he  desired  even  by  the  most  impatient. 
Before  noon  we  reached  the  base  of 
Mount  Hood  ;  and  if  I  had  thought  it  sub 
lime  at  a  distance,  I  now  fell,  as  it  were, 
its  sublimity  in  an  awful  degree.  Up,  up, 
up  it  ro.^e,  until  my  eyes  became  strained 
to  trace  its  glistening  outline  in  the  clear, 
blue  ether.  Its  base  surrounded  with 
sand,  dead  trees,  and  broken  rocks,  which 
had  accumulated  there,  perhaps,  by  the 
torrents  of  ages,  as  they  rushed  and  roared 
down  its  jagged  sides.  For  a  considera 
ble  distance  above  the  plain,  it  was  well 
Umbered  ;  then  came  a  long  stretch  of 
green  grass  ;  then  a  long  barren  spot ;  and 
then  commenced  the  snow  and  ice,  which 
rose  far  beyond  the  ordinary  hight  of  the 
clouds  —  the  whole  combined,  forming  a 
spectacle  of  which  the  pen  can  convey  no 
adequate  idea.  To  the  right  and  left 
stretched  away  the  Cascades,  which,  stu 
pendous  of  themselves,  seemed  as  mole- 
nills  in  compare  with  Mount  Mood.  Far 
to  the  south  rose  the  lofty  peak  of  Mount 
Jefferson,  and  as  far  to  the  north,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Columbia,  that  of  Mount 
St.  Helens. 

Having  gazed  upon  the  scene  to  my  sat 
isfaction.  I  turned  my  horse  to  the  ri'^ht, 
and  began  my  ascent  up  a  valley,  formed 
by  the  partial  meeting  of  two  hills,  and 
down  the  very  bed  of  which  roared  a 
sparkling  streamlet.  The  farther  I  as 
cended  the  more  wild  the  scene,  the  more 
precipitous-  and  dangerous  the  path.  In 


fact,  on  three  occasions  we  were  obliged 
to  dismount  and  lead  our  horses  for  a  con 
siderable  distance,  and  once  our  steps  had 
to  be  retraced  for  half  a  mile,  in  order  to 
pass  around  a  frightful  chasm.  Near  the 
summit  of  the  ridge  we  came  upon  a  fine 
spring,  and  an  abundance  of  grass.  Here 
we  encamped  for  the  night,  during  -wnich 
I  slept  soundly. 

The  following  day  was  cold  and  stormy, 
with  sleet  and  snow.  This  may  surprise 
the  reader,  who  bears  in  mind  that  it  was 
now  June  ;  but  snow-storms  on  the  moun 
tains  are  not  regulated  altogether  by  the 
seasons,  and  are  frequently  known  to  oc 
cur  in  one  part  of  the  country,  while  in 
another,  not  ten  miles  distant,  the  heat 
may  be  excessive.  As  all  are  aware,  the 
higher  we  ascend,  the  colder  the  atmos 
phere  ;  and  on  many  high  mountains  in 
southern  climes,  there  may  be  all  kinds  of 
temperatures  from  the  torrid  to  the  frigid — 
from  the  valley  of  dates,  tigs  and  oranges, 
to  the  peaks  of  never-melting  ice  and 
snow — and  this  within  the  distance  of  five 
or  ten  miles. 

Ere  we  raised  our  camp,  I  shot  a  moun 
tain  goat,  being  the  tirst  game  we  had 
killed  since  the  buck  of  unfavorable  mem 
ory.  Of  this  we  prepared  our  breakfast, 
and  also  put  a  few  choice  pieces  in  our 
"  possibles,"  leaving  the  balance  to  the 
wolves,  vliicli,  in  justice  to  the  apprecia 
tion  they  sL'oweu  thereof,  I  must  say,  was 
nothing  but  a  pile  of  shining  bones,  ere 
we  were  fairly  out  of  sight.  I  now  con 
sulted  an  excellent  map,  which  I  had 
procured  from  one  of  the  emigrants,  and 
referring  to  my  compass,  laid  my  course  a 
little  north  of  east,  so  as  to  strike  the 
Dalles  of  Columbia,  and  thus  the  most 
traveled  route  to  and  from  Oregon  City. 

The  day,  as  I  have  said,  being  stormy, 
and  our  route  lying  over  a  wild,  bleak 
country,  served  not  a  little  to  depress  the 
spirits  of  both  Teddy  and  myself.  No 
thing  of  consequence  occurred  through  the 
day  to  distract  our  thoughts  from  their 
gloomy  channel,  and  but  little  was  said  by 
either.  By  riding  hard,  we  gained  th 
Dalles  that  night,  and  encamped  on  the 
banks  of  the  Columbia.  Eager  to  arrive 
at  Fort  Hall,  we  again  pushed  ahead  on 
the  succeeding  day,  and  following  up  the 
Columbia,  reached  Fort  Walla-Wall?  on 


LEN1    LEOT1;    OK, 


the  third  ft  on.  our  quitting  the  Dalles, 
without  any  events  worthy  of  particular 
note. 

This  fortress,  constructed  on  the  plan 
of  Fort  Laramic,  described  in  "  Prairie 
Flower,"  I  shall  pass  without  notice,  other 
than  to  say,  it  contained  a  small  garrison 
of  resolute  and  daring  adventurers,  or 
rather  mountaineers  and  their  squaw  wives, 
who  preferred  passing  their  lives  here  in 
comparative  ease,  at  good  wages,  to  the 
privations  and  perils  of  trapping  in  the 
wilderness. 

Here  I  found  a  number  of  hardy  fellows, 
who  had  lately  "  come  in," — preparing  to 
Bet  off  again  for  the  Blue  Mountains — some 
to  hunt  for  game  in  the  forests,  and  others 
to  trap  in  the  streams.  Here  were  also 
several  friendly  Indians  (friendly  through 
fear  of  the  whiles),  the  usual  number  of 
traders,  peddlers,  one  or  two  land  specu 
lators  and  fur  company  agents,  and  one 
French  voyctyeur  —  all  more  or  less  en 
gaged  in  drinking,  trafficking,  and,  gam 
bling,  the  usual  routine  of  a  gathering  of 
this  kind. 

Thinking  it  possible  to  raise  a  party 
here,  I  made  a  proposition  to  several,  but 
found  all  had  prior  engagements.  I  next 
made  some  inquiries  concerning  Black 
George,  and  learned,  much  to  my  satisfac 
tion,  that  he  had  been  seen  quite  recently 
on  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  that  in  all 
probability  I  should  find  him  at  Fort  Bois, 
or  Fort  Hall,  as  he  was  then  slowly  taking 
his  way  eastward. 

"  If  you  desire  an  excellent  guide,"  said 
an  agent  to  me,  •'  let  me  recommend  to 
you  Pierre  Boreaux  ;  who,  though  some 
what  eccentric  at  times,  you  will  n'nd  most 
faithful  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty.  1 
have  tried  him,  sir,  and  know." 

"  Just  what  I  desire,  exactly,"  I  replied. 

"  Come,  then,"  he  said  ;  and  taking  me 
aside,  he  presented  me  to  the  individual  in 
question,  who  was  none  other  than  the 
French  voyuyeur  previously  mentioned. 

He  AY  as  a  small,  dapper  personage,  very 
neat  in  his  appearance,  with  a  keen,  rest 
less  black  eye.  and  a  physiognomy  more 
inclined  to  merriment  than  melancholy. 
Hh  age  war  about  forty,  though  he  ever 
look  pains  t(  appear  much  younger.  His 
penchant  \va  for  the  wild  and  daring  ;  and 
uever  was  "  )  so  well  contented,  as  when 


engaged  in  some  perilous  enterprise.  This 
taken  in  connection  with  his  jovial  ttiru 
of  mind,  may  at  first  seem  parodoxical  ; 
but  it  must  be  remembered,  that  most 
persons  incline  less  to  their  likes  than  theii 
opposiU's  ;  and  that  the  humorist  is  the 
man  who  seldom  smiles,  while  the  man  of 
gravest  sayings  may  be  literally  a  laughing 
philosopher.  He  was  much  addicted,  too, 
to  taking  snuff,  of  which  he  always  man 
aged  to  have  a  good  stock  on  hand,  so 
that  his  silver  box  and  handkerchief  were 
in  requisition  on  almost  all  occasions.  He 
spoke  with  great  volubility,  in  broken  Eng 
lish,  generally  interlarded  with  French, 
accompanied  with  all  the  peculiar  shrugs 
and  gesticulations  of  his  countrymen.  Hu 
was,  in  short,  a  serio-comical,  singular 
being  of  whom  I  can  convey  no  better 
idea  than  to  let  him  speak  and  act  for 
himself. 

"Ah,  Monsieur,"  he  said  in  reply  to 
my  salutation,  taking  a  huge  pinch  01  snuff 
the  while  and  bowing  very  politely  ;  "  ver 
moche  happe  make  you  acquaintones. 
Will  you  'ave  von  tarn  —  vot  you  call  him 
—  happenese,  eh  ?  —  to  take  von  leetle  — 
I  forget  him — so — (putting  his  thumb  and 
finger  together,  to  indicate  a  pinch),  avec 
moi,  eh  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  I  returned,  "  I  never  use 
the  article  in  that  shape." 

"  Ver  sorre  hear  him.  Vous  remem 
ber  le  grand  Empcreur  Napoleone,  eh  ?  " 

"  Ay." 

"  Ah  !  von  plus  great  sheneral  him. 
He  take  snoof,  eh  ?  Veil,  you  speak 
now,  you  —  vot  you  call  him  —  bussiness, 
eh  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  engage  you,"  I  replied,  "  to 
go  on  a  journey  fu'.1  ^  pen],  iu  the  capa 
city  of  a  guide." 

"•  Ou  allez-vous  ?  " 

"  How  ?  " 

"  Ah,  pardonnez-moi  !  I  sav,  vere  you 
go?" 

"  To  Mexico,  perhaps  " 

"  Oui,  Monsieur.  I  shall  be  ver  mochtr 
delight,  I  certainment  assure  yen.  VCB 
you  go,  eh  ?  " 

"I  leave  here,  en  route  for  Fort  Hall  fci 
daylight  to-morrow." 

Here  the  Frenchman  took  one  or  two 
hasty  pinches  of  his  favorite,  and  closing 
his  box,  said  : 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


23 


44  Yon  Icetle  absence,  Monsieur.  I  sail 
'  tve  von  ver  moche  pleasure  ;  "  and  off  he 
skipped,  as  gay  as  a. lark,  to  prepare  him 
self  for  the  journey. 

At  daylight  on  the  succeeding  morning, 
the  Frenchman  was  at  his  post,  well 
mounted  on  a  full  blooded  Indian  pony, 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  really  looking 
quite  the  warrior.  Three  minutes  later 
we  had  all  passed  the  gate  and  were  speed 
ing  away. 

This  was  the  first  meeting  between 
Teddy  and  Pierre,  and  I  soon  became 
aware  it  was  anything  but  a  pleasant  one, 
particularly,  on  the  part  of  Teddy,  who 
cast  many  a  furtive  glance  upon  the  other, 
expressive  of  dislike.  What  this  arose 
from  —  whether  from  jealousy,  national 
prejudice,  or  contempt  for  the  inferior 
proportions  of  Pierre  —  I  was  at  a  loss  to 
determine.  Never  before  had  I  seen  an 
imosity  to  a  fellow  traveler  so  strongly  de 
picted  on  the  features  of  the  faithful  Teddy, 
it  might  be  he  fancied  the  Frenchman  of 
equal  grade  with  himself,  and  was  jealous 
of  his  supplanting  him  in  my  favor,  and 
this  seemed  the  most  probable  of  the 
three  suggested  causes.  Pierre,  however, 
showed  no  ill  will  to  the  Irishman,  but 
merely  returned  his  glances  with  a  super- 
cillious  look,  as  though  he  considered  him 
his  inferior.  But  he  could  not  long  re 
main  silent ;  and  so,  after  riding  on 
briskly  for  a  short  distance,  he  turned  to 
Teddy,  and  with  a  mischievous  twinkle 
in  his  small  black  eye,  said,  with  much 
suavity : 

"  Parlez  vous  Fran^ais  ?  " 

"  Spake  it  in  Inglish,  ye  spalpeen  !  and 
thin  agintleman  can  answer  yees,"  replied 
Teddy,  reddening  with  vexation.  "If  it's 
frog  language  ye's  jabbering,  sure  it's  not 
mesilf  as  wants  to  know  what  ye  says, 
now." 

"  Que  voulez-vous,  Monsieur  ?  "  in 
quired  the  Frenchman,  looking  slyly  at 
me  with  a  significant  shrug,  and  secretlv 
enjoying  the  discomfiture  of  Teddy. 

"  Quack,  quack,  quack,  kither  hoben," 
rejoined  Teddy,  fiercely.  "  Sure,  now,  and 
b  it  that  ye  can  understand  yourself,  ye 
tief !  It's  maybe  smart,  now,  ye's  afther 
thinking  yourself,  by  token  ye  can  say 
things  I  don't  know  the  maanihg  of.  And 
«o  ye  is  smart,  barring  the  foolish  part, 


which  comprehinds  the  whole  of  yees. 
Troth  !  can  ye  fight,  Misther  Fi  ogeater  ? 
Come,  now,  that's  Inglish  ;  and  by  St. 
Pathrick's  bones  !  I'll  wager  ye're  too 
cowardly  to  understand  it." 

"Come,  come,  Teddy,"  I  said,  "you 
are  getting  personal.  I  can  allcw  no 
quarreling." 

"  Och  !  there's  no  danger,  your  hon 
or,"  returned  Teddy,  turning  upon  Pierre 
a  withering  look  of  contempt.  "  It's  not 
inny  frog-eater  as  is  going  to  fight  his 
betthers  ;  and  sure  it's  not  Teddy  O'Lagh- 
erty  as  can  fight  alone,  jist  " 

Meantime  there  had  been  a  quiet,  half 
smile  resting  on  the  features  of  the  French 
man,  as  though  he  was  secretly  enjoying 
a  fine  joke.  Even  the  abusive  language 
of  the  excited  Irishman  did  not  appear  to 
disturb  his  equanimity  in  the  least.  There 
he  sat,  as  cool  and  apparently  as  indiffer 
ent  as  if  nothing  derogatory  to  his  fight 
ing  propensities  had  been  uttered,  or  at 
least  understood  by  him.  I  was  begin 
ning,  in  fact,  to  think  the  latter  was  the 
case,  or  else  that  Teddy  was  more  than 
half  right  in  calling  him  a  coward,  when 
I  became  struck  with  a  peculiar  expres 
sion,  which  suddenly  swept  over  his 
bronzed  features,  and  was  superseded 
by  the  same  quiet  smile  —  as  we  some 
times  at  noon-day  see  a  cloud  flit  over  a 
bright  landscape,  shading  it  for  an  instant 
only. 

Suddenly  Pierre  reined  his  pony  close 
along  side  of  Teddy,  and  in  a  very  bland 
voice,  as  if  begging  a  favor,  said  : 

"Monsieur,  you  sav  someting  'bout  fitrht, 

*  J  *  & 

eh  ?  Sare,  I  sail  'ave  le  plus  grande  delight 

k        .    ,  O  O 

to  soot  you  with  un —  vot  you  call  him  — 
peestole,  eh  ?  " 

"The  divil  ye  will,  now?"  replied 
Teddy,  with  a  comical  look  of  surprise. 
"Sure,  thin,  an'  it's  mesilf  that  'ud  like 
to  be  doing  the  same  by  you,  and  ye  was 
wort  the  powthcr  it  'ud  cost." 

"  Sare,"  returned  the  Frenchman  with 
dignity,  "  in  my  countre,  ven  gentilshom- 
mes  go  for  kill,  dey  nevare  count  de  cost. 
I  soot  you — I  cut  you  troat — I  sharge  you 
noting." 

"  Well,  be  jabers  !  since  ye've  got  your 

foul  tongue  into  Inglish,  and  be to 

yees !  I'll  do  the  same  for  your  dirthy 
self,"  retorted  Teddy  ;  "  for  it's  not  Teddy 


LE  NI     LEOTI;    OR, 


O'Lagherty  as  '11  be  behind  aven  a  nager 
m  liberalithies  of  that  sort,  now." 

"  You  are,  both  too  liberal  of  your 
valor  by  half."  I  rejoined,  laughing  at 
what  I  thought  would  merely  end  in 
words. 

But  I  was  soon  convinced  of  my  error  ; 
for  scarcely  had  the  expression  left  my 
lips,  when  the  Frenchman  sprang  from  his 
pony,  and  striking  his  hand  on  his  pistols, 
exclaimed  : 

"  Je  1'attaquerai :  I  vill  'ave  at  you, 
Monsieur,  ven  you  do  me  von  leetle  hon- 
oor,  sare." 

"  It's  not  long  you'll  have  to  wait  thin," 
cried  Teddy  ;  and  before  I  could  interfere 
—  or  in  fact  was  fully  aware  of  what  was 
taking  place  —  he  had  dismounted  and 
drawn  a  pistol. 

"  Tin  paces,  ye  blaggard  !  "  he  cried  ; 
"  and  may  howly  Mary  be  marciful  to 
yees  ! " 

"  Hold  !  "  I  shouted.  "  Rash  men, 
what  are  you  about?  I  forbid " 

Here  1  was  interrupted  by  the  reports 
of  two  pistols,  followed  by  a  stifled  cry  of 
pain  from  Pierre,  who  instantly  dropped 
bis  weapon,  and  placed  his  hand  to  his 
shoulder.  The  next,  moment  I  was  on  my 
feet,  and  rushing  to  his  assistance,  ac 
companied  by  Teddy,  whose  features,  in 
stead  of  anger,  now  exhibited  a  look  of 
commiseration. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Pierre  ?  "  I  inquired,  as 
I  gained  his  side. 

"Ver  leetle  scratch,"  replied  the  French 
man,  taking  away  his  hand  covered  with 
blood. 

I  instantly  tore  away  his  garments,  and 
ascertained  that  the  ball  of  Teddy  had 
passed  quite  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his 
arm  near  the  shoulder,  but  without  break 
ing  a  bone  or  severing;  an  artery. 

"  A  lucky  escape,  Pierre,"  I  said. 

He  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
coolly  proceeded  to  take  snuff,  with  an  in 
difference  that  surprised  me.  When  he 
had  done,  he  turned  to  Teddy  with  : 

"  Vill  you  'ave  von  more  —  vot  you 
call  him  —  le  plus  grand  satisfactione, 
»-h?" 

"  Sure,  and  it's  mesilf  as  is  not  over  par- 
thicular  inny  ways.  If  ye's  satisfied,  I'm 
contint  —  or  conthrawise,  as  plases  ye 
moat." 


"  Veil,  then,  suppose  we  shake  hand, 
eh  ?  "  rejoined  Pierre.  "  I  soot  you — you 
soot  me.  V  !  'ave  both  satisfactione,  oh  ?  " 
and  the  next  moment  these  two  sin<>ulrij 
beings  were  pleasantly  engaged  in  compli 
menting  each  other  on  his  bravery. 

0,  curious  human  nature  !     From  that 
moment    Pierre    Boreaux  and  Teddy  0' 
Lagherty  were  sworn  friends  for  life — noi 
did  1  ever  hear  an  angry  word  pass  bo 
tween  them  afterward. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PASS  FORT  BOIS THE  HOT  SPRINGS A  CAP 
ITAL  JOKE SUPERSTITION  OF  TEDDY 

"THE  DIVIL'S  TAE-POT  " — A  NIGHT  AT 
TACK STRATAGEM  OF  THE  INDIANS  FOILED 

BY    PIE-KRE FOE    PUT    TO    FLIGHT FOUK 

SCALPS A  PACK  OF  WOLVES IN  DANGEfl 

OF    BEING      DEVOURED A    DISMAL     NIGHT 

OF  IT. 

PURSUING  our  course  along  the  banl?» 
of  the  Walla-Walla,  we  passed  Dr.  Whit 
man's  station,  and  camped  the  following 
night  in  a  romantic  dell  at  the  foot  of  9 
ridge  adjoining  the  Grand  Round.  In  th« 
course  of  the  evening  we  were  visited  bj 
several  Indians,  with  whom  we  held  t 
small  traffic  for  provisions.  For  fear  of 
evil  consequences,  we  kept  well  on  ouj 
guard,  but  they  displayed  no  hostile  in 
tentions.  Pierre  complained  somewhat  of 
his  arm,  which  I  had  bandaged  at  the  tim* 
as  well  as  circumstances  would  permit 
I  advised  him  to  consult  the  Indians,  whc 
are  known  to  be  great  proficients  in  the 
healing  art.  He  did  so,  and  the  result 
proved  highly  beneficial ;  so  much  so 
that  he  was  able  to  use  it  sooner  than  1 
expected. 

The  next  day  we  crossed  the  Grand 
Round,  (a  delightful  valley  of  twenty  miles 
in  extent,  watered  by  a  pleasant  stream,) 
also  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  descended 
into  the  valley  of  the  Snake  River.  Th< 
scenes  we  passed  over  were,  many  of  them, 
wild,  and  some  of  them  romantic,  in  the. 
extreme  ;  but  as  more  important  matters 
press  me,  I  cannot  pause  to  descrbe  them 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


The  Indians  w ;  now  beheld  on  every  side 
of  us — but  the/  offered  no  violence.  The 
third  day  from  crossing-  the  Grand  Round 
we  reached  Fort  Bois,  where  we  passed 
the  night. 

The  next  morning  we  pursued  our  jour 
ney,  having-  learned,  meantime,  that  Black 
George,  for  whom  I  made  particular  in 
quiries,  had  passed  here  a  few  days  before, 
in  company  with  two  other  trappers,  on 
their  way  to  Fort  Hall.  This  was  cheer 
ing  news  to  me,  and  we  pushed  forward 
as  fast  as  circumstances  would  permit,  in 
the  hope  of  overtaking  him. 

About  noon  of  the  third  day  from  leav 
ing  Fort  Bois,  we  came  upon  some  half 
a  dozen  fine-looking-  springs,  when  Teddy 
declared  he  must  quench  his  thirst. 

As  he  descended  from  his  horse,  the 
Frenchman  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
gave  me  a  very  significant  wink. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Pierre?"  I  in 
quired,  fully  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  what 
seemed  to  him  a  capital  joke. 

"  Paix  !  le  diaole  !  "  he  exclaimed,  lay 
ing  his  hand  on  my  arm  and  pointing-  to 
Teddy,  who,  having  reached  a  spring,  was 
just  in  the  act  of  bending  down  to  the 
water.  "  Monsieur  sail  see." 

"  See  ?  "  I  repeated. 

"  Oui,  Monsieur." 

"  What  shall  I  see  ?  " 

"  Och  !  howly  murther  !  be  St  Pathrick  ! 
jabcrs  ! "  cried  Teddy  at  this  moment, 
Bpringing  to  his  feet  and  running  toward 
is  with  all  his  ileetness,  holding  his  tongue 
with  one  hand,  and  pressing  the  other  upon 
nis  forehead.  "  Och  !  murther  !  I'm  dead 
mtirely — bit — ate  up — claan  killed,  I  is  !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  I  inquired,  un 
able  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  such 
strange  actions,  while  Pierre  leaned  for 
ward  on  his  saddle  and  held  both  hands 
upon  his  ribs,  fairly  screaming  with  laugh 
ter. 

"  Mather,  is't  ?  "  rejoined  Teddy.  "  Mu- 
sha  !  but  it's  mather  intirely.  Me  tongue's 
burnt  out  of  mo,  jist,  barring  about  sax 
inches  on't." 

"Burned,  Teddy?" 

"Ay,  burnt  your  honor — that's  the 
wor-r-rd,  now.  Sure,  that's  the  divil's 
pool,  and  so  it  is — and  hell  must  be  here 
abouts.  Och  !  but  Pm  in  a  hurry  to  lave 
tne  spot  betimes  ;"  and  springing  into  his 


saddle  he  rode  away,  in  spite  of  my  calls 
to  the  contrary,  as  fast  as  his  beast  could 
carry  him.  • 

"  What  is  it,  Pierre  ?  "  I  exclaimed  ;  but 
Pierre  was  too  much  convulsed  to  answer 
me  ,  and  dismounting,  I  approached  the 
miraculous  water  myself. 

Now  1  understood  the  joke  ;  and  to  do 
myself  justice,  I  must  say  I  so  far  imitated 
the  Frenchman,  that  I  was  unable  to  quit 
the  spot  for  at  least  ten  minutes.  In  his 
eager  desire  for  a  cool{  refreshing  draught, 
Teddy  had  plunged  his  face  into,  and 
gulped  a  mouthful  of  boiling  water,  from 
what  are  known  as  the  Hot  Springs.  Of 
these  there  are  some  five  or  six,  the  water 
of  which  bubbles  up  clear  and  sparkling, 
and,  all  meeting,  form  a  small  stream, 
which  rolls  away  with  a  pleasing  murmur. 
No  wonder  Teddy,  not  understanding  the 
phenomenon,  and  being  superstitious  too, 
should  imagine  Old  Nick  had  something 
to  do  with  it. 

"  Veil,  you  see,  eh  ?  "  exclaimed  Pierre, 
as  I  remounted.  "  By  gar  !  him  von  ver 
moche  good  joke.  He  tink  him  von  dia- 
ble,  eh  ? "  and  he  ended  with  another 
hearty  laugh,  in  which  I  was  forced  to 
join- 
About  three  miles  further  on  we  over 
took  Teddy,  whose  running  ardor  had 
cooled  down  to  a  quiet  walk. 

"  Ah,  faith  !  "  said  he,  dolefully,  "it's 
mighty  feared  I's  beginning  to  git,  that 
ye'd  not  come  at  all,  at  all." 

"Why  so,  Teddy?" 

V  Oh,  worra  !  worra  !  that  I  should  iver 
live  to  taste  the  divil's  pool  !  And  did  ye 
sae  him,  body  and  bones,  your  honor? — 
and  how  did  he  look,  if  it's  all  the  same 
to  yees,  and  he  no  forbid  your  tilling  raa- 
sonably  ?  " 

"Why,  Teddy,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
alarmed  at ;  "  and  I  proceeded  to  explain 
the  mystery.  "  It's  a  very  natural  phe 
nomenon,  I  assure  you." 

"  Nath'ral,  is  it  ?  Och  !  thin  I  have  it, 
'pon  me  sowl  !  " 

"  Have  what  ?  " 

"Why  sure,  your  honor,  I  sae  claau 
through  it." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  see,  Teddy  ?  " 

"  Musha  !  but  it's  the  dn  il's  tae-pot." 

«  Tpa-nof.  9  » 

Ould  Sathan  i» 


Tea-pot  ? 

Ah  !  troth  and  it  is. 


LENI    LEOTI:    OR, 


at  the  bottom  of  it,  does  ye  mind  !  He 
haats  the  wather  there,  now,  to  coax  saints 
to  dhrink  tae  wid  him,  the  spalpeen  !  and 
thin  he'll  make  the  most  of  fcm,  d'ye  sae, 
your  honor  ?  Och  !  it's  a  lucky  man  Ted 
dy  O'Lagherty  is  for  gitting  oft'  so  asy, 
barring  he's  more  unlucky  by  token  he 
wint  to  the  place  at  all,  at  all." 

It  had  become  a  fixed  fact  with  Teddy, 
which  all  my  jests  and  arguments  failed  to 
alter,  that  the  Hot  Springs  and  his  Satanic 
majesty  were  indissolubly  connected.  But 
this  did  not  lessen  the  joke,  which  for  a 
long  time  afterward  served  Pierre  and  my 
self  as  a  specitic  for  blue  devils  and  ennui. 

As  I  said  before,  we  were  now  traveling 
through  a  country  thickly  peopled  with 
savages.  What  we  had  seen  of  these  ap 
peared  to  be  friendly  ;  but  knowing  the 
treacherous  nature  of  many,  we  felt  that 
self-preservation  demanded  we  should  at 
all  times  be  on  our  guard.  For  this  pur 
pose,  our  arms  were  always  ready  to  our 
hands  in  the  day  time,  and  at  night  each 
took  his  turn  of  standing  sentinel.  Thus 
far  we  had  escaped  all  difficulty;  but  Pierre 
often  warned  us  not  to  be  too  sanguine  of 
reaching  Fort  Hall  without  a  brush  of  some 
kind,  as  he  well  knew  the  nature  of  those 
surrounding  us. 

The  sun  was  just  oinking  behind  the 
Blue  Mountains,  when  we  came  to  a  small 
stream — a  tributary  of  Snake  River — that 
took  its  devious  course  through  a  valley 
between  two  precipitous  ridges,  and  thence 
through  a  canon  of  a  thousand  feet  in 
depth.  The  valley  was  shaded  by  Iprge 
trees  of  various  kinds,  and  was  romantic 
in  its  appearance.  It  contained  good  gra 
zing  also,  and  good  water,  and  this  made 
it  a  desirable  camp-ground.  Hoppling 
our  horses  and  setting  them  free,  we  kin 
dled  a  fire,  around  which  we  squatted  to 
cook  our  meat,  smoke  our  pipes,  and  fill 
up  the  intervals  with  the  most  amusing 
subjects,  among  which  Teddy  and  his 
"  divil's  tae-pot "  came  in  for  their  full 
quota  of  mirthful  comment. 

At  length  we  began  to  grow  drowsy, 
and  having  seen  our  animals  tethered 
within  the  circle  of  the  fire,  and  it  being 
Pierre's  turn  to  stand  guard,  Teddy  and  I 
threw  ourselves  upon  the  ground,  our 
blankets  rolled  around  us,  and  soon  were 
fust  asleep.  For  an  hour  or  two  everything 


passed  off  quietly,  when  Pierre  awoke  m« 
with  a  gentle  shake. 

"  Ver  sorre,  Monsieur,  to — vot  you  rail 
him — deesturb  you.  eh? — but  de  tarn  In- 
jen — sacre  le  diable  !  " 

"Well,"  said  I,  starting  up,  "what  is 
it  *?  Are  we  attacked  ?  "  and  at  the  same 
time  I  awoke  Teddy. 

"  By  gar  !  "  returned  the  Frenchman, 
"I  see  von  leetle — vot  you  call  him-  — 
sneaker,  eh  ?  Him  creep — creep — creep 
— and  I  tink  1  wake  you,  sare,  and  soot 
him,  by  tarn  !  " 

"Faith,  that's  it!"  cried  Teddy,  grasp 
ing  his  rifle  and  springing  to  his  feet: 
"  That's  it,  now  !  Shoot  the  haathen  !  " 

By  this  time  I  was  fully  aroused  to  the 
sense  of  danger ;  and  quickly  learning 
from  Pierre  where  he  had  seen  the  savage, 
I  grasped  my  rifle  and  sprang  beyond  the 
fire-light,  in  an  opposite  direction,  followed 
by  my  companions.  We  had  not  gained 
ten  paces,  when  crack,  crack,  went  some 
five  or  six  muskets,  the  balls  of  which, 
whizzing  over  our  heads,  did  not  tend  to 
lessen  our  speed.  However,  we  reached 
the  covert  unharmed,  and  for  the  time 
considered  ourselves  safe.  We  turned  to 
reconnoiter ;  but  not  a  sign  of  a  living 
thing  could  we  see  save  our  horses,  which 
stood  with  ears  erect,  trembling  and  snort 
ing,  as  if  conscious  of  a  hidden  foe. 

For  an  hour  we  remained  in  this  man 
ner,  when,  concluding  the  enemy  had  de 
parted,  I  proposed  returning  to  the  fire. 

"  Hist !  "  whispered  Pierre,  grasping 
my  arm.  "You  sail  see,  Monsieur." 

And  he  was  right ;  for  not  ten  minutes 
afterward,  he  -silently  directed  my  atten 
tion  to  some  dark  objects  lying  flat  upon 
the  ground,  which,  with  all  my  experience 
and  penetration,  I  could  not  believe  we-e 
savages,  until  I  perceived  them  gradually 
near  our  horses.  Then  I  became  alarmed, 
lest,  reaching  them,  they  might  specdrly 
mount  and  escape,  leaving  us  to  make  the 
best  of  a  perilous  and  toilsome  journey  OB 
foot. 

"  What  is  to  be  done,  Pierre  ?  I  feai 
we  are  in  a  bad  fix." 

"Je  me  couche — je  tire  fur  lui :  I  lie 
down,  sare — I  soot  at  him.  You  sail  see. 
Wait  von  leetle  minneet.  Ven  you  hears 
my  cannon,  den  you  soot  and  run  at  binr 
f&  if  diable." 


ADVENTURE?     IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


Spying  this,  Pierre  glided  away  as 
noiselessly  as  an  Indian,  and  I  saw  no'hing 
more  of  -him  for  several  minutes.  Mean 
time,  Teddy  and  I  kept  our  eyes  intently 
fixed  upon  our  stealthy  foes  ;  and  our  rifles 
in  rest,  ready  to  give  them  their  deadly 
contents  at  a  moment's  warning.  Slowly, 
like  ti  cat  creeping  upon  her  game,  did 
these  half  naked  Indians,  serpent-like, 
steal  toward  our  animals,  every  moment 
lessening  the  distance  between  them  and 
the  objects  of  their  desires.  I  began  to 
grow  nervous.  What  had  become  of 
Pierre  !  If  he  intended  to  do  anything, 
now  I  thought  was  the  time.  A  few  mo 
ments  and  it  would  be  too  late  ;  and  act 
ing  upon  this  thought,  I  drew  a  bead  upon 
the  most  advanced  savage,  and  was  about 
pulling  the  trigger,  when  the  latter  sud 
denly  bounded  to  his  feet,  uttered  a  yell 
of  delight,  ;rnd  sprang  toward  the  now 
frightened  animals,  imitated  in  his  ma 
neuver  by  some  ten  or  twelve  others. 

"Good  Heaven!  all  is  lost!"  I  ex 
claimed,  bitterly. 

The  words  had  scarcely  passed  my  lips, 
when  bang  went  a  pistol  from  among  the 
hordes  ;  and  the  foremost  savage — the  one 
I  had  singled  out,  and  who  was  on  the 
point  of  grasping  one  of  the  tether  ropes 
— bounded  into  the  air,  with  a  horrible 
yell,  and  fell  back  a  corpse.  This  was 
wholly  unlocked  for  by  his  companions, 
and  checked  for  an  instant  those  pressing 
on  behind.  Remembering  Pierre's  re 
quest,  I  whispered  Teddy  to  "  throw  "  his 
man  and  charge.  Both  our  rifles  spoke 
together,  and  down  tumbled  two  more. 
At  the  same  moment  Pierre's -rifle  sent 
another  to  his  account ;  and  simultaneously 
springing  forward,  all  three  of  us  made 
the  utlkin  ring  with  our  shouts  of  joy  and 
defiance.  This  was  the  grand  coup  de 
grace  of  the  night.  The  Indians  were 
alarmed  and  bewildered.  They  had 
counted  on  certain  success  in  stealing  our 
horses  without  the  loss  of  a  man.  Four 
had  fallen  in  as  many  seconds  ;  and  fancy 
ing  themselves  in  an  ambuscade,  they 
turned,  with  wild  yells  of  affright,  and 
disappeared  in  every  direction  ;  so  that  by 
the  time  I  had  joined  Pierre,  we  were 
jn  asters  of  the  Meld,  and  not  an  unwounded 
if*i  in  sight. 

'•  You  see  hoss   safe,   Monsieur,"  said 


Pierre,  hurriedly,  as  wt  met ;  "  and  1  see 
to  tarn  Injen,  eh  °!"  and  without  wailing  a 
reply,  he  darted  forward,  and  the  ne\t 
moment  was  engaged  in  tearing  oil  the 
bloody  scalps  of  the  slain. 

As  every  mountaineer  considers  this  his 
prerogative,  I  did  not  interfere,  but  order 
ing  Teddy  to  assist  me,  cut  the  lariats  and 
led  our  horses  back  into  the  darkness,  from 
fear  of  another  attack,  in  which  we  might 
come  out  second  best.  In  a  few  minutes 
Pierre  approached  me  leisurely,  and  laugh 
ingly  said : 

"  Tout  va  bien  :  All  pe  veil,  sare  ; "  and 
he  held  up  to  the  light  four  bloody  scalps. 
"  Von,  two,  tree,  not  pe  dead,  I  kill  him. 
Good  for — vot  you  call  him — stealer,  eh  1 
— ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  and  taking  out  his  box,  he 
deliberately  proceeded  to  take  snuff  with 
his  bloody  lingers,  adding,  by  way  of 
accompaniment:  "Von  tarn  ver  moche 
exsallant  joke,  him — ha,  ha,  ha  !  Sucre  ! 
me  tink  him  get  von  leetle  tarn — vot  you 
call  him — astonishment,  eh  ?  By  gar  ! 
ver  moche  good." 

As  we  did  not  consider  it  prudent  to 
venture  again  within  the  tire-light,  we  de 
cided  to  remain  where  we  were  through 
the  night,  and  guard  against  surprise.  All 
was  dark  around  us,  except  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  roaring  fire,  which,  flickering 
to  the  passing  breeze,  made  the  scene  of 
our  late  encampment  look  dismal  enough. 
To  add  to  its  gloom  and  cheerlessness,  we 
were  presently  greeted  with  the  distant 
howl  of  a  hungry  pack  of  wolves.  Every 
moment  these  howls  grew  louder,  showing 
the  animals  were  approaching  the  spot, 
while  our  horses  snorted  and  became  so 
restless  we  could  scarcely  hold  them. 
Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  hungry  beasts 
of  prey,  till  at  length  we  could  perceive 
their  fiery  eyeballs,  and  occasionally  catch 
a  glimpse  of  their  bodies,  as  they  hovered 
around  the  circle  of  the  tire,  fearing  to  ap 
proach  the  carcasses  they  so  much  coveted. 

For  an  hour  or  two  they  prowled  and 
howled  around  us,  "making  night  hideous 
with  their  orgies,"  while  the  tire  gradually 
growing  less  and  less  bright,  increased 
their  boldness  accordingly. 

At  last  one,  unable  longer  to  bear  the 
keen  pangs  of  hunger,  leaped  forward 
and  buried  his  teeth  and  claws  in  the  car 
cass  of  one  of  our  late  foes.  The  otheri 


2S 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR. 


followed  his  example,  and  in  less  than  a 
minu'e  as  many  as  fifty  of  these  ravenous 
animals  were  growling,  fighting,  gnashing 
their  teKh,  and  tearing  the  flesh  from  the 
bones  of  the  dead  Indians. 

Pierre  now  informed  me  we  were  in  im 
minent  danger  of  being  attacked  ourselves, 
as,  having  once  tasted  blood,  and  their 
appetites  being  rather  sharpened  than 
appeased,  they  would  only  become  more 
bold  in  consequence.  To  my  inquiry  as 
to  what  should  be  done,  he  replied  that  we 
must  continue  to  kill  one  of  their  number 
as  fast  as  he  might  be  devoured  by  his 
companions  ;  and  setting  the  example,  he 
shot  one  for :h with.  hnire  enough!  no 
sooner  had  the  beast  fallen,  than  the  rest 
sprang  upon  and  devoured  him.  By  that 
time  my  rifle  was  loaded,  arid  I  knocked 
over  another,  which  met  the  same  fate. 
In  this  manner  we  kept  firing  alternately 
for  a  couple  of  hours,  during  which  time 
the  old  stock  was  replenished  by  new 
comers,  until  I  began  to  fancy  all  of  the 
genus  would  be  present  before  daylight. 
But  at  last  one  after  another  got  satisfied, 
and  slunk  away  licking  his  chops.  No 
new  ones  appeared,  and  ere  the  stars  grew 
dim,  nothing  was  visible  of  the  last  night's 
butchery  but  a  collection  of  clean-licked, 
shiny  bones.  "While  the  fire  las,e;l,  we 
could  see  to  take  sight;  but  after  that 
went  out,  we  tired  at  I'andom  ;  though, 
knowing  the  exact  location  of  the  beasts, 
our  shots  generally  proved  successful  in 
ki'iing  or  wounding. 

When  morning  again  put  ;i  smiling  face 
upon  the  recent  sable  earth,  we  mounted 
our  horses  and  quitted  the  loathsome  spot, 
thanking  God  for  our  providential  deliver 
ance. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

AKIilVE  AT  FORT   HALL KIND  BLACK  GEORGE 

ENLIST     HIM     WITH     THREE     OTHERS 

SOME  NEWS  OF  PRAIRIE  FLOWER A  STORM 

UNDER  WAY A    TURBULENT    STREAM 

DANOEROUS  EXPERIMENT    OF  1'IEKRE ALL 

SAFE  AT  LAST. 

IT  was  a  warm,  pleasant  afternoon  in 
June,  that  vie  came  in  sight  of  Fort  Hall, 


which  we  hailed  win,  thre^  .'.heers  of  de 
light  ;  and  setting  spurs  to  our  horses,  io 
less  than  haii'  an  iiour  wt  rode  g.iiiy  within 
the  gates. 

A^  we  entered  the  area,  which,  though 
much  smaller,  was  fashioned  like  Fort 
Laran.ie,  I  perceived  a  small  group  of 
mountaineers  or  trappers,  ;rmong  whom 
were  two  or  three  Indians,  all  apparently 
engaged  in  some  important  traffic.  The 
iiL-x,  moment  1  hearu  a  well  known  voice 
exclaim  : 

"  it's  done  gone  then,  or  I'm  no  snakes  ; 
and  heyar's  what  never  backs  for  nobody 
and  nothin." 

'ihe  next  moment  the  speaker  sauntered 
toward  me,  just  as  i  had  dismounted  from 
my  horse.  As  he  approached,  he  looked 
me  steadily  in  the  face  a  moment,  and  then 
springing  forward  with  hand  extended  and 
Hashing  eyes,  fairly  shouted:' 

"  Bosson — for  a  thousand  wild-cats — I'll 
be  dog-gone  ef  'tain't ;"  and  eve  the  sen 
tence  was  concluded,  my  hand  was  suffer 
ing  under  the  powerful  but  welcome  pres 
sure  of  that  Of  Black  George.  "Well," 
he  added,  "  I'll  be  teetolly  rumriumuxed, 
ef  I  don't  think  you're  a  trump,  and  a  ace 
o'  diamonds  at  that.  Whar  d'ye  come 
from  now,  and  which  way  goin  ?  ef  it's  no! 
tallied  on  a  private  stick." 

"Direct  from  Oregon  City,"  I  answe. 
ed,  by  no  means  backward  in  displaying 
niy  delight  at  meeting  him  again. 

"  Whar's  the  gals  V  " 

"  Left  them  ail  behind  me." 

"  A  ugh  !  'Spec,  you  left  your  heart 
thar  too,  eh  ?  " 

"  Possibly." 

"  I'd  swear  it.  Well,  hoss,  don't  blame 
ye.  Them's  about  as  nice  human  picters 
as  ever  this  nigger  seed.  Been  thirty  year 
younger,  might  hev  got  into  deep  'water 
thar  myself,  and  lost  the  whole  kit.  How- 
some  ver,  this  coon  never  tried  treein  a  gal 
but  once't — and  Suke  Harris  soon  blowed 
damp  weather  on  to  his  powder,  and  i* 
warn't  no  shoot  no  how — augh  !  Well, 
well,"  he  added, with  something  like  a  sigh, 
"  them's  by-gones  any  how,  and  'sped,  it'a 
all  for  the  best — 'case  I'm  an  ole  dog,  and 
lead  a  wanderin  life  ;  and  when  I  kind  o' 
git  rubbed  out — why,  ye  see.  I  haint  got 
no  pups  nor  nuthin  to  be  a  ba/kin  ovei  tn^ 
last  roost." 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


Here  Black  George  coughed  a  little,  and 
turned  aside  bis  head,  when  his  eye  chanc 
ed  upon  Teddy  and  Pierre,  who,  having 
dismounted  at  another  part  of  the  enclo 
sure,  were  now  approaching  to  join  me. 

"  Why,  hello,  hoss  !  how  goes  it  ?  "  con 
tinued  the  old  trapper,  addressing  the 
Irishman,  and  extending  his  hand.  "  And 
here's  Pierre  too,  lookin  as  nateral  's  a 
young  cub  ;  and  I'll  be  dog-gone  of  that 
same  old  smell-box  aint  jest  whar  it  used 
to  was,  a  reg'lar  fortress,  makin  his  fingers 
runners  'tween  it  and  his  nose.  Augh  ! 
gin  us  a  chaw,  and  see  the  ginteel  done." 

"  Faith  !  ye're  the  same  ould  chap,"  re 
joined  Teddy,  grasping  one  hand,  while 
the  Frenchman  took  the  other.  "  Sure, 
an'  it's  good  for  sore  eyes  to  sae  the  likes 
o'  ye  agin." 

"Ah  !  Monsieur  Blake  Shorge,"  added 
Pierre,  "  it  give  me  von  ver  moche  le  plus 
grande  delight,  for — vot  you  call  him — 
discoverrnent  you,  eh  ?  Ver  exceeding- 
tarn  glad,  by  gar  !  " 

As  soon  as  the  congratulations  were 
over  on  all  sides,  Black  George  turned  to 
nae  with : 

"Well,  Bosson,  heara  anything  o'  your 
pardner  ?  " 

"Nothing;  and  I  am  now  on  my  way 
to  hunt  .him  out,  if  among  the  living." 

"  A  long  tramp,  and  no  beaver,  or  I'm 
no  prophet." 

"  You  think  it  impossible  for  me  to  find 
him,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  hoss.  it's  hard  sayin  what's  im 
possible  ;  but  I'd  jest  as  soon  think  o' 
huntin  for  a  singed  tail  beaver,  I  would, 
and  odds  on  my  side  at  that." 

Here  I  entered  into  an  explanation  of 
how  he  was  lost,  and  wound  up  by  asking  ; 

"  And  now  do  you  not  think  it  possible 
he  was  taken  prisoner  ?  " 

"  Nothin  agin  it,  as  I  knows  on." 

"And  if  taken  prisoner  by  the  Mexi 
cans,  is  it  not  possible — nay,  more,  is  it 
uot  probable — he  was  sold  into  slavery  ?  " 

"Why,"  replied  Black  George,  who 
seemed  struck  with  this  last  suggestion, 
"  I'll  gin  in  it  sort  o'  edges  that  way,  that's 
a  fact — I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  it  don't !  But 
'spose  it's  all  so — how's  you  to  diskiver 
him  ? — 'case  it  looks  a  heap  mixed  to  this 
«hild,  to  see  it  in  the  cl'arest  light." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  wish  to  know  my- 1 


self,  and  for  that  purpose  have  started  on 
the  search — being  the  least  to  my  mind,  I 
could  do  under  the  circumstances." 

"  Then  you're  bound  sothe'ard, 'spose?  " 

"  Exactly  ;  and  desire  you  to  join  me, 
with  three  as  good  men  as  you  can  select." 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  but  ye  see,  it's  beaver  time 
now,  and " 

"  I  understand  ;  but  I  am  willing  to  pay 
you  as  much  as  you  could  make  in  your 
regular  vocation." 

"  You  is,  hey  ?  Well,  come,  now,  that's 
a  sensible  and  fee] in  speech,  and  you 
couldn't  hev  bettered  the  gist  on't,  ef  you'd 
a  splattered  it  over  with  all  the  big  words 
as  is  English.  I  like  a  straight  for'ard- 
toe-thfc-mark  way  o'  dealin — I'll  be  dog 
ged  ef  I  don't ! — and  bein's  I  know  you're 
a  gentleman — why,  I'll  jest  tell  ye  I'm  in, 
ef  it  takes  all  my  hair  to  put  her  through. 
Besides,  thar's  a  chance  to  raise  hair,  and 
that's  a  sport  as  this  nigger  al'ays  had  a 
nateral  incline  for.  I've  jest  got  in  from 
the  Blues,  and  made  a  sale  of  some  hides 
— so  I'm  ready  to  travel  and  tight  jest 
when  you  speak  it.  Got  any  bacca  ?  " 

"  Can  you  raise  me  three  more  of  the 
same  sort  ?  " 

"  I  reckon." 

"  Do  so ;  and  we  will  start,  if  possible, 
to-morrow  rnornin." 

"  Well,  that'll  jest  save  me  a  big  spree 
—  augh  !  I  say,  boys,"  he  continued, 
drawing  from  the  pocket  of  his  hunting 
shirt  a  small  canteen,  "  got  the  critter  here 
— and  so  'spose  we  take  an  inside  wet,  eh  ? 
Spect'twont  hurt  your  feelings  none  ;"  and 
he  set  an  example  which  was  very  accu 
rately  followed. 

"  By-the-by,  George,"  said  I,  "  have 
you  seen  or  heard  anything  of  Prairie 
Flower,  since  that  night  when  she  appear 
ed,  gave  the  alarm,  and  disappeared  so 
mysteriously  ?  " 

"Jest  what  I's  a-goin  to  ax  you.  No, 
I  haint  never  sot  eyes  on  her  purty  face 
sence  ;  but  I  hearn  a  trapper,  as  come 
from  the  sothe,  say  as  he  had  seed  hei 
down  to  Taos  way,  and  all  her  Injins  was 
along.  She  was  axin  him,  now  I  come  to 
remember,  ef  he'd  heard  o'  a  prisoner 
bein  taken  that-a-ways  and  sold  to  the 
mines." 

"Well,  well,  what  did  he  repi}  ?  "  ex 
claimed  I,  as  a  sudden  thought  struck  in* 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


"  Thai  he'd  hearn  o'  several — but,  none 
in  partikolur." 

"Heaven  bless  her!  I  understand  it 
all !  " 

"  All  what?"  inquired  Black  George. 

"  "Why,  when  I  sa^  Prairie  Flower  last, 
»  informed  her  of  the  fate  of  Charles  Hunt- 
ly  ;  and  ton  to  one  she  has  set  oft1'  to  search 
for  him  !  " 

"That's  it,  for  my  old  muley  !"  cried 
Black  George,  not  a  little  excited.  "  I've 
said  afore  she  was  a  angel,  and  heyar's  a 
a  possum  what  don't  speak  without  know- 
in.  Lord  bless  her !  I  could  love  her 
ke  darnation,  jest  for  that.  Ef  she  aint 
one  on  'em,  why  was  peraries  made,  hey?  " 

A  few  minutes  more  were  spent  in  like 
Conversation,  when  Black  George  parted 
from  me  to  engage  some  companions  for 
our  journey.  Bidding  Teddy  look  to  our 
horses,  I  entered  the  common  reception 
room  of  the  fort,  greatly  elated  at  the  in 
telligence  just  received.  Sweet  Prairie 
Flower  !  She  was  doubtless  at  that  very 
moment  engaged  in  an  undertaking  which 
shouKi  have  been  performed  by  me  long 
before  ;  and  I  could  not  but  condemn  my 
self,  tbr  what  seemed  either  a  great  over 
sight  or  gross  neglect  of  duty.  And  should 
Heaven  favor  her,  and  she  discover  my 
friend  and  set  him  free — what  a  debt  of 
gratitude  Avould  he  owe  her  for  saving  him 
twice  !  first  from  death,  and  secondly  from 
a  slavery  worse  than  death.  And  should 
this  happen,  what  Avould  be  the  result  to 
two  beings,  who,  whatever  might  be  out 
ward  seemings,  loved  each  other  with  a 
passion  strong,  and,  on  the  part  of  Prairie 
Flower  at  least,  imperishable  !  Sweet, 
mysterious  being  !  I  could  hardly  realize 
she  was  only  mortal  ;  for  there  was  some 
thing  in  her  every  look,  thought,  and  deed, 
which  spoke  a  divinity — a  something  en 
nobled  above  mere  frail  humanity. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour,  Black  George 
v  rejoined  me,  bringing  \vilh  him  three  large- 
boned,  robust,  good-looking  fellows,  who, 
he  informed  me,  were  ready  to  follow  me 
at  a  fair  remuneration.  In  a  few  minutes 
everything  was  settled,  when  each  depart 
ed  to  make  preparations  for  an  early  start 
on  the  morrow. 

A  storm,  however,  set  in  during  the 
night,  which  raged  with  such  violence  the 
oext  morning,  that  I  was  feign  to  defer 


my  departure  for  twenty-four  hours  longer. 
To  me  the  day  wore  tediously  away; 
for  my  mind  was  continually  harj'iny  on 
my  lost  friend  and  Prairie  Flower;  and 
now  that  I  had  gained  some  intelligence 
of  the  latter,  1  could  not.  avoid  connecting 
the  two,  in  a  way  to  raise  my  hopes  in  a 
great  degree ;  and  consequently  I  was 
doubly  anxious  to  be  on  the  way. 

But  if  the  delay  proved  tedious  to  me, 
not  so  was  it  with  my  companions,  who 
had  a  jolly  time  of  it  over  their  cups  and 
cards ;  and  drank  and  played,  till  it 
became  a  serious  matter  for  them  to 
distinguish  an  ace  of  trumps  from  a  gill 
of  whisky. 

However,  the  day  went  at  last,  as  all 
days  will,  and  I  was  gratified  the  second 
morning  with  a  peep  at  old  Sol,  as  he  rose 
bright  and  glorious  in  the  east.  J  hastened 
to  rouse  my  companions- — who  w».re  rather 
the  worse  for  the  previous  day's  indul 
gence,  but  who  turned  out  as  well  as 
could  be  expected,  all  things  considered — 
and  in  a  short  time  we  were  all  mounted 
and  in  motion,  .1  goodly  company  of  seve.j. 

Shaping  our  course  southward,  a  coup.o 
of  hours  brought  us  to  Port  Neuf  river, 
which  we  found  very  turbulent  from  tLa 
late  sto/rn,  and  in  consequence  very  diffi 
cult  to  cross.  After  examining  the  banks 
for  some  distance,  and  finding  no  good 
ford  we  determined  on  swimming  it.  This 
was  no  easy  undertaking;  for  the  current 
ran  very  swift,  and  loudly  roared,  as  its 
flashing  but  muddy  waters  dashed  furiousjy 
against  the  rocks,  which  here  and  there 
reared  their  ugly  heads,  as  if  with  a  half- 
formed  intention  of  damning  and  forcing 
it  to  another  channel. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Pierre  to  me  as  we 
stood  hesitating  what  to  do ;  "  you  see 
tother  bank,  eh  ?  " 

I  nodded  assent. 

"  Sacre  !  by  tarn  !  now  I  tell  you  me 
like  him.  I  sail  'ave  von  grande  satisfao- 
tione  of  put  my  foot  dere — or  I  sail  be 
von — by  gar  !  vot  you  call  him — dead, 
wet  homme,  eh  ?  " 

A;>  he  spoke,  he  spurred  his  horse 
forward,  and  the  next  moment  the  liery 
animal  was  nobly  contending  with  an 
element,  which,  in  spite  of  his  struggles, 
rapidly  bore  him  down  on  its  bosom,  while 
his  rider,  as  if  to  show  his  uttej 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR     WEST 


31 


for  danger,  sat  erect  on  his  back,  coolly 
engaged  in  taking  snuff. 

"H !"  exclaimed  Black  George, 

with  a  grin.  "  ef  thur  aint  that  old  sn:ell- 
box  agin  !  Ef  ever  he  goes  under,  he'll 
do  It  with  a  sneeze.  Augh  !  " 

"  Sure,  and  its  throublesome  he  finds 
the  wather  now,  I'm  thinking,"  observed 
Teddy. 

"  Good  heavens  !  he  is  indeed  in  diffi 
culty  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Quick  !  let  us 
ride  down  the  bank  and  be  prepared  to 
give  him  aid." 

And  in  fact  our  aid  came  none  too  soon  ; 
for  the  stream  had  borne  both  rider  and 
horse  down  to  a  narrow  channel,  where 
the  water  rushed  furiously  over  the  rocks, 
and  being  partially  obstructed  below,  form 
ed  an  eddy  or  whirlpool  of  a  very  danger 
ous  character,  in  which  the  beast  was 
floundering  and  vainly  striving  to  reach 
either  bank.  By  this  time  Pierre  had 
become  aware  of  his  danger,  and  was 
exerting  his  utmost  skill  to  keep  his  seat, 
and  guide  his  animal  safely  out  of  the 
fearful  vortex.  Just  below  him  was  a  nar 
row  canon,  of  considerable  dep'h,  and  at  its 
fanher  termination  a  slight  fall,  where  the 
water  seethed  and  foamed  with  great  vio 
lence,  after  which  it  became  comparatively 
tranquil,  as  it  spread  out  on  a  broad  level, 
to  again  concentrate  its  greatest  force  at 
a  point  still  below.  As  we  reached  the 
bank  along  side  of  the  guide,  we  all 
dismounted,  when  Black  George,  leaping 
upon  a  steep  rock  overhanging  the  stream, 
instantly  threw  him  a  rope  which  he  had 
selected  for  the  purpose.  Pierre  caught 
one  end  of  it  eagerly,  and  fearing  to  remain 
longer  where  he  was,  instantly  abandoned 
his  horse  and  plunged  into  the  water.  The 
next  minute  we  had  drawn  him  ashore, 
though  not  entirely  scatheless,  as  the 
whirling  current  had  several  times  thump 
ed  him  against  the  rocks,  and  bruised  his 
limbs  and  body  in  several  places. 

Pierre,  however,  seemed  to  care  more 
for  his  horse  than  himself;  and  no  sooner 
had  he  found  a  safe  footing  on  terra  Jirma, 
than  giving  himself  a  shake,  he  cried, 
"Mine  hoss,  by  gar  !  "  and  darted  away  to 
the  rescue  of  the  unfortunate  brute,  which 
was  now  being  hurried  against  his  will 
through  the  canon.  We  all  followed  Pierre 
down  the  stream,  but  ere  we  gained  the 


tranquil  part  of  the  river  before  spoktn  of, 
the  animal  had  passed  safely  over  the  falls, 
and,  with  a  joyful  whicker,  was  now  fist 
swimming  to  the  shore,  where  he  was 
soon  caught  by  his  owner,  who'  expressed 
his  joy  in  sundry  shouts  and  singular  antics 

'•  Ah  !  sacre  !  "  cried  the  Frenchman,  as 
he  remounted  his  gallant  pony,  shaking 
his  hand  with  an  air  of  defiance  at  the 
heedless  river:  "I  sail  'ave  von  le  plus 
satisfactione  again  try  you  tarn  drowning  ;" 
and  no  sooner  said,  than  he  spurred  into 
the  liquid  element,  and  succeeded,  after 
some  difficulty,  in  gaining  the  opposite 
shore,  an  example  we  all  safely  imitated. 

We  now  struck  one  of  the  most  north 
ern  points  of  the  Bear  River  Mountains ; 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  day  pursued  our 
course  without  accident,  over  steep  ridges, 
through  dangerous  defiles,  dense  thickets, 

O  O  * 

deep  gorges  and  ravines,  passed  yawning 
chasms,  and  all  the  concomitants  of  wild, 
mountain  scenery.  Sometimes  we  stood 
on  a  point  which  commanded  an  extensive 
view  of  a  country  of  great  beauty  and 
grandeur — where  the  soul  could  expand 
and  revel  amid  the  unchanged  fastnesses 
of  a  thousand  years — and  anon  we  were 
completely  hidden  from  the  sight  of  any 
thing  but  the  interwoven  shrubbery, 
through  which  we  diligently  labored  our 
way.  At  last  we  came  to  a  fine  spring, 
around  which  grew  a  limited  circle  of 
excellent  grass,  presenting  the  appearance 
of  a  spot,  which,  at  some  remote  period, 
had  been  cultivated.  Here  we  encamped, 
built  a  tire,  ate  our  suppers,  and  slept  to 
the  music  of  howling  wolves. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

BEAR     RIVER     MOUNTAINS BEAR    RIVER  — 

TRAPPING REMARKS    ON    THE     TRAITER8 

A     STAMPEDE ALARM FLIGHT MORH 

SCARED  THAN  HURT THE  JOKE  OX  MI— - 

STAND  TREAT. 

IT  is  unnecessary  to  weary  the  reader 
with  farther  detail  of  mountain  life.  Unless 
in  cases  of  extreme  peri!,  from  savages  oi 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


wild  boasts,  the  scenes  are  monotonous  ; 
and  eno-.igh  I  think  has  already  been 
recorded  to  give  a  correct  idea  of  life  as 
it  is,  with  all  its  dangers  and  hardships, 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  civilization.  I 
may  therefore  be  permitted  to ,  press  for 
ward — annihilate  time  and  space — only 
pausing  occasionally  to  give  something 
new,  or  out  of  the  regular  routine  of 
every  day  adventure. 

It  was  my  intention  fm  leaving  Fort 
Hall,  to  make  the  best  of  my  way  toward 
Taos  —  a  small  Mexican  village,  much 
frequented  by  mountaineers,  situated  in 
the  country  of  Texas,  on  the  western  side 
Of  an  arm  of  the  Green  Mountains,  some 
fifty  or  sixty  miles  north  of  Santa  Fe,  and 
on  a  small  tributary  of  the  Rio  Grande. 
This  was  to  be  my  first  destination,  and 
where  I  was  in  hopes  to  gain  some  intel 
ligence  of  my  friend,  from  the  many  ad- 
renturers  there  collected  —  the  traveling- 
representatives  of  all  the  territories  as 
Well  as  Mexico.  It  was  possible,  too,  I 
might  fall  in  with  Leni  Leoti  (which  the 
reader  will  bear  in  mind  is  the  Indian 
name  of  Prairie  Flower),  and  her  tribe, 
from  whom  I  had  sanguine  expectations  of 
gaining  some  information,  either  good  or 
bad.  If  Prairie  Flower  had,  as  I  inferred 
from  what  Black  George  imparted,  actually 
been  in  search  of  Charles  Huntly,  I  could 
at  once  gain  the  result  and  extent  of  her 
operations,  and  shape  my  own  accordingly. 
With  this  view  of  the  matter,  as  may 
readily  be  supposed,  I  felt  no  little  anxiety 
to  see  her,  and  on  no  route,  to  my  thinking, 
would  1  be  more  likely  to  find  her,  than  on 
the  one  1  had  chosen  and  was  now  pursuing. 

M. iking  the  best  of  our  way  over  the 
hills,  we  struck  the  Bear  river  on  the  third 
day  from  leaving  Fort  Hall.  This  river, 
which  takes  its  rise  in  the:  very  heart  of 
the  mountain  range  to  which  it  gives  name, 
presents  the  curious  phenomenon  of  a 
stream  running  adverse  ways,  and  nearly 
parallel  to  itself,  for  a  distance  of  from 
one.  to  two  hundred  miles.  Beginning,  as 
just  stated,  in  the  very  center  of  the  Bear 
River  Mountains,  it  dashes  away  north 
ward  on  its  devious  course,  for  a  hundred 
and  tU'ty  or  two  hundred  miles,  and  then, 
encircling  a  high  ridge  with  the  bend  of 
an  ox  how,  runs  southward  nearly  the 
same  distance,  enlarging  with  numerous 


tributaries-,  and  empties  at  last  into  th« 
Great  Salt  Lake,  within  fifty  or  seventy- 
iive  miles  of  its  own  head  wateis.  For 
merly  this  stream  was  much  resorted  to 
by  trappers,  who  here  found  beaver  very 
numerous,  and  mountain  game  in  abun 
dance.  ,  Beaver  dams,  in  process  of  decay, 
may  here  and  there  be  seen  at  the  present 
day,  and,  at  rare  intervals,  a  thriving  set 
tlement  of  the  little  fellows  themselves ; 
but,  as  Black  George  remarked  with  a 
sigh  of  regret : 

"It  aint  what  it  used  to  was,  no  how." 

Soon  after  we  had  camped,  Black 
George,  who  ever  had  an  eye  to  business, 
started  out  in  search  of  game,  and  soon 
returned  with  the  intelligence  that  "  beav  it 
sign  was  about,"  an-d  forthwith  proceeded 
to  get  his  traps,  which  he  had  brought 
along  in  his  possibles. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  1  in 
quired. 

"  Make  'em  come,  boss — nothin  short." 

As  I  had  never  witnessed  the  modus 
operandi  of  catching  beaver,  I  expressed 
a  desire  to  do  so,  which  was  responded  to 
with  : 

"  Come  on,  Bosson,  and  I'll  put  y« 
through." 

Taking  our  way  to  the  river,  which  was 
here  rather  shallow,  Black  George  led  me 
down  some  two  hundred  yards,  and  then 
directed  my  attention  to  some  small  tracks 
made  in  the  muddy  bottom  of  the  stream, 
along  the  margin  of  the  water. 

"Them's  the  sign,  d'ye  see!  and  thar's 
fur  about,  sartin,  or  this  nigger  don't  know 

7  '  OO 

beaver." 

Saying  this,  the  old  mountaineer  pro 
ceeded  to  set  his  traps,  of  which  he  had 
some  live  or  six.  Moistening  a  small  stick 
in  his  "medicine,"  as  he  termed  it — an 
oily  substance  obtained  from  a  gland  of 
the  beaver — he  fastened  it  to  the  trap,  and 
then  placed  the  latter  in  the  "  run  "  of  the 
animal,  just  under  the  edge  of  the  water, 
securing  it  to  a  sapling  on  the  bank  by  a 
small  cord.  Another  cord  led  off  from 
the  trap  several  feet,  and  was  attached  to 
u  "floating  stick" — so  called  from  its 
floating  on  the  water — by  which  append 
age  the  trapper,  in  case  the  beaver  caught 
makes  off  with  his  property,  is  enabled  to 
recover  it. 

"And  now,"  said  I,  ^heu  he  had  done, 


'ADVENTURES    IN    THE     FAR    WEST 


33 


"  what  inducement  has  the  animal  lo  be 
come  your  victim  ?  " 

"Why  ho  gits  to  be  my  meat  you 
mean  ?  " 

"Exactly." 

"  Well,  I'll  jest  explanify — though  may 
be  I'll  r.ot  git  it  out  as  scientiferic  nor 
some  folks  — for's  I  said  sometime  ago, 
edication  never  come  in  this  child's  line. 
Ye  see,  it's  jest  this  :  beaver's  like  I've 
hearn  say  women-folks  was.  He's  got  an 
orful  cur'osity,  and  it  gits  him  into  bad 
snaps  without  his  intendin  it.  Ye  see, 
he'll  come  along  here  arter  a  while,  and 
bo'll  smell  that  thar  "medicine,"  and 
think  maybe  thar's  another  beaver  about 
— leastwise  he'll  want  to  know  purty  bad — 
and  so  he'll  come  smellin  round,  and  afore 
lie  knows  it,  '  he's  put  his  foot  in't,'  and 
is  a  gone  beaver.  A  ugh  !  " 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this,  Black 
George  coolly  continued  his  operations,  till 
all  his  traps  were  set,  and  then  together 
we  returned  to  our  camp.  On  arriving, 
[  found  that  the  beaver  mania  had  taken 
possession  of  Black  George's  companions, 
who  were  in  consequence  absent  with  like 
sinister  designs  against  the  harmless  little 
fellows. 

On  returning  with  the  old  mountaineer 
n  the  morning,  I  soon  discovered  he  had 
'made  a.  raise,"  as  he  expressed  it,  "of 
three  oid  'uns  and  a  kitten. "  The  other 
trappers  were  somewhat  successful  also ; 
o  that  on  that  fatal  night,  no  less  than  a 
iozen  beaver  lost  their  "  run  "  forever. 

Before  raising  carnp,  my  mountain 
riends  proceeded  to  skin  the  animals, 
scrape  the  inside  of  the  pelts  of  fat  and 
all  superfluous  matter,  and  then  stretch 
them  on  hoops  fur  drying — after  which 
they  were  ready  for  packing.  This  latter 
s  done  by  turning  the  fur  inside,  putting- 
several  together  and  fastening  them  with 
cords,  when  they  are  tightly  pressed  into 
he  possibles  of  the  trapper,  and  thus  con 
veyed  on  mules  to  the  rendezvous-market, 
fcnaetimes  one  place  and  sometimes  an 
other. 

The  labor  of  the  trapper  is  very  severe, 
d  his  perils  without  number.  Some 
times  he  traps  on  his  own  account— alone, 
or  with  two  or  three  associates — and  some 
times  for  a  company  In  the  first  instance, 
uis  cognomen  is  the  "  free  trapper ; "  in 


the  last,  the  "hired  hand."  In  either 
case,  however,  his  hardships  are  the  saroe, 
He  sets  off  to  the  mountains,  as  soon  as 
the  spring  rains  are  over,  and  there  gener 
ally  remains  till  the  approaching  storms  of 
autumn  drive  him  to  winter  quarters, 
where  his  time  is  spent  in  all  kinds  of  dis 
sipation  to  which  he  is  accessible.  If  he 
makes  a  fortune  in  the  summer,  he  spends 
it  in  the  winter,  and  returns  to  his  vocation 
in  the  spring  as  poor  as  when  he  started 
the  year  previous ;  and  not  unfrequently 
worse  off;  for  if  a  "free  trapper,"  ten  to 
one  but  he  sacrifices  his  animals  in  some 
drunken,  gambling  spree,  and  is  forced  to 
go  out  on  credit,  or  as  a  "hired  hand." 
He  braves  all  kind  of  weather  in  his  busi 
ness,  and  all  kinds  of  danger,  from  the 
common  accidents  of  the  mountains,  to  his 
conflicts  with  wild  beasts,  and  wilder  and 
more  ferocious  savages.  But  he  is  a  phil 
osopher,  and  does  not  mind  trifles.  So  he 
escapes  with  a  whole  skin,  or  even  with 
life,  he  looks  upon  his  hardships,  encoun 
ters  and  mishaps,  only  as  so  much  literary 
stock,  to  be  retailed  out  to  his  companions 
over  a  warm  fire,  a  euchre  deck,  and  a 
can  of  whisky. 

Seeking  the  best  beaver  regions,  he 
scans  carefully  all  the  rivers,  creeks,  and 
rivulets  in  the  vicinity  for  "beaver  sign," 
regardless  of  danger.  If  he  finds  a  tree 
across  a  stream,  he  gives  it  close  attention, 
to  ascertain  whether  it  is  there  by  acci 
dent,  by  human  design,  or  whether  it  is 

thrown"  by  the  animal  of  his  search  for 
the  purpose  of  damming  the  water.  If 
the  first  or  second,  he  passes  on;  if  the 
last,  he  begins  his  search  for  the  "  run  of 
the  critter."  He  carefully  scrutinizes  all 
the  banks,  and  peers  under  them  for 

beaver  tracks."  If  he  finds  any,  his 
next  examination  is  to  ascertain  whether 
they  are  "  old  "  or  "  fresh."  If  the  latter, 
then  his  traps  arc  set  forthwith,  in  the 
manner  already  shown. 

In  his  daily  routine  of  business,  he  not 
unfrequently  encounters  terrible  storms  of 
rain  or  snow  — -the  former  sufficient  to 
deluge  him  and  raise  rivulets  to  rivers — 
and  the  latter  to  bury  him,  without  almost 
uperhuman  exertions,  far  from  mortal  eye, 
and  there  hold  him  to  perish, 

"Unwept,  imhonored,  and  unsung." 

These  are  the  least  of  his  dangers      He 


34 


LEN1    LEOTI;    OR 


is  often  attacked  by  wild  boasts,  when 
nothing  but  hi*  presence  of  mind,  his  cool 
ness  ;md  good  marksmanship,  can  extricate 
him  from  his  difficulty :  and  yet  he  rarely 
fails  to  come  off  conqueror.  Escaping 
these,  he  must  be  continually  on  his  guard 
against  his  worst  foe,  the  wily  Indian ;  so 
that  he  can  never  approach  a. bush  with 
the  surety  that  a  treacherous  ball  may  not 
put  a  close  to  his  mortal  career,  and  all 
his  hard  earnings  pass  into  the  hands  of 
an  enemy  he  ever  hates  with  the  bitter 
ness  of  concentrated  passion.  With  all 
these  dangers,  and  hardships,  and  vicissi 
tudes,  your  bona  fide  trapper  loves  his 
calling,  would  not  be  content  to  follow  any 
athcr,  and  is  in  general  a  rough,  jolly, 
dare-devil  sort  of  fellow,  who  not  infre 
quently  attains  to  the  appointed  age  of 
man,  and  at  last  "goes  under"  with  all 
the  stoicism  of  a  martyr, 

"With  not  a  stone,  and  not  a  line, 
To  tell  lie  e'er  had  been." 

Continuing  our  course,  but  in  a  more 
easterly  direction,  we  at  length  quitted  the 
mountains  and  descended  to  a  large,  beau 
tiful,  rolling  prairie,  with  little  or  no  vege 
tation  but  short  buffalo  grass.  Taking  our 
v?ay  over  this,  we  had  been  about  half  a 
day  out,  and  were  beginning  to  lose  sight 
of  the  lower  ranges  of  hills,  when  we 
heard  a  deep  rumbling,  like  heavy  thunder 
or  a  distant  earthquake,  and  our  guide 
came  to  a  sudden  halt,  exclaiming: 

"LeDiable!" 

"  Howly  jabers  !  what  is  it,  now  ?  " 
cried  Teddy. 

"  Hist ! "  exclaimed  Black  George.  "  I'll 
be  Qosr-srone  ef  I  don't  think  we're  chawed 

•  • 

up  this  time,  sure  as  sin  ! 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  echoed. 

"Von  grande  stampede,  by  gar!" 
answered  Pierre. 

"  Stampede  of  what,  T  pray  ?  " 

"Buffler,"  replied  Black  George,  sen- 
tentiously. 

"Where  are  thev?" 

"  Yonder  they  is  now — here  a-ways  they 
soon  will  be  ;  "  and  as  he  spoke,  he  pointed 
over  the  plain  with  his  linger. 

Following  the  direction  with  my  eyes, 
I  behvld  in  the  distance  a  cloud  of  dust, 
which  rolled  upward  like  a  morning  fog, 
through  which,  and  in  which,  I  could 
occasionally  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  huge 


animals,  as  they    bounded    forward 
railroad  velocity. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  1  cried. 

"  Grin  and  bear  it,"  responded  the  old 
trapper. 

"But  we  shall  be  trodden  to  death 
See  !  they  are  coming  this  way  !  " 

"  Can't  die  younger,"  was  the  cool 
rejoinder. 

"  But  can  we  not  fly?" 

"Howly  mother  of  Mary!"  shouted 
Teddy,  worked  up  to  a  keen  pitch  af 
excitement ;  "  it's  fly  we  must,  sure,  as  if 
the  divil  was  afther  us,  barring  that  our 
flying  must  be  did  on  baasts,  as  have  no 
wings,  now,  but  long  legs,  jist  " 

"  What  for  you  run,  eh  ?  "  grinned  tht 
Frenchman.  "  Him  catche  you,  by  gar  I 
just  so  easy  as  you  catche  him,  von  leetle, 
tain — vot  you  call  him — musquito,  eh  !  ' 

"  It's  no  use  o'  showing  them  critters  our 
backs,"  rejoined  Black  George.  "  Heyar's 
what  don't  turn  back  on  nothin  that's  go* 
hair." 

"  Well,"  continued  I,  "  you  may  do  as 
you  please  ;  but  as  for  myself,  I  have  n<? 
desire  to  stand  in  my  tracks  and  die  without 
an  effort." 

Saying  this  I  wheeled  my  horse  and, 
was  just  in  the  act  of  putting  spurs  to  him, 
who'll  Black  George  suddenly  dashed  up 
along  side  and  caught  my  bridle. 

"  See  heyar,  boy — don't  go  to  runnin — 
or  you'll  discomtiumicate  yourself  ouda- 
cioiisly— you  will,  by \  Eh,  Pierre  ?  ' ' 

"  Certa'inment,  by  gar  !  "  answered  the 
guide  ;  and  then  both  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh. 

"  Whaf  Jo  you  mean?"  cried  I,  in 
astonishment,  unable  to  comprehend  their 
singular  actions  ;  and  I  turned  to  the  other 
mountaineers,  who  were  sitting  quietly  on 
their  horses,  and  inquired  if  they  did  not 
think  there  was  danger. 

"  Thar's  al'ays  danger,"  replied  one, 
"  in  times  like  this  :  but  thar's  no  safety  in 
runnin." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  what  are  w«;  to  do, 
then?  Stay  here  quietly  and  get  run  over?" 

Black  George  gave  a  quiet  laugh,  and 
the  Frenchman  proceeded  to  take  snuff. 
This  was  too  much  for  my  patience.  I 
felt  myself  insulted,  and  jerking  away  m* 
rein  from  the  hand  of  the  trapper,  I 
exclaimed  indignantly  : 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST 


*'  i  do  r»  )i  stay  here  to  be  the  butt  of 
any  party.  Teddy,  follow  me  !" 

The  next  moment  I  was  dashing  over 
the  prairie  at  the  full  speed  of  my  horse, 
and  the  iri-liman,  to  use  a  nautical  phrase, 
close,  in  my  wake,  whooping  and  shouting 
with  delight  at  what  he  considered  a  nar 
row  escape.  The  direction  we  had  taken 
was  the  same  as  that  pursued  by  the  run 
ning  buffalo  ;  and  we  could  only  hope  for 
ultimate  safety,  by  reaching  some  huge 
tiee,  ruck,  or  other  obstacle  to  their  pro 
gress,  in  advance  of  them.  How  far  we 
would  have  to  run  to  accomplish  this,  there 
was  no  telling  ;  for  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  ahead  of  us,  we  saw  nothing  but 
the  same  monotonous  rolling  plain.  The 
herd,  thundering  on  in  our  rear,  was  so 
numerous  and  broad,  that  an  attempt  to 
ride  out  of  its  way,  by  turning  to  the  right 
or  left,  could  not  be  thought  of —  as  the 
velocity  of  the  animals  would  be  certain  to 
bring  a  wing  upon  us,  ere  we  could  clear 
their  lines-.  There  was  nothing  for  it, 
then,  but  a  dead  race  ;  and  1  will  be  free 
to  own,  the  thought  of  this  fairly  chilled 
my  blood.  Exposed  as  I  had  been  to  all 
kinds  of  danger,  I  had  never  felt  more 
a»irmed  and, depressed  in  spirits  than  now. 
What  could  my  companions  mean  by  their 
indifference  and  levity  ?  Was  it  possible 
that,  having  given  themselves  up  for  lost, 
the  excitement  had  stupified  some,  and 
turned  the  brains  of  others  ?  Horrible 
thought  I  I  shuddered,  and  turned  on  my 
horse  to  look  back.  There  they  stood 
dismounted,  rifles  in  hand,  and,  just  be 
yond  them,  the  mighty  host  still  booming 
forward.  Poor  fellows !  all  hope  with 
them  is  over,  I  thought ;  and  with  a  sigh 
at  their  fate,  I  withdrew  my  gaze  and 
.•ir/ed  on  my  steed. 

On,  on  we  sped,  for  a    mile  or  more, 
when  I  ventured  another  look  behind  me. 
Judge  of  my  surprise,  on  beholding  a  long. 
line  of  bufftlo  to  the  right  ;;nd  left,  rushing  | 
away  in  different  directions,  while  directly 
before  me,  nothing   was  visible    but  my ! 
friends,  who,  on  perceiving  me.  look  back,  I 
made  signs  for  me  to  halt  and  await  them. ! 
1  did  so,  and  in  a  f-.-vv  minutes  they  came 
up  lajghing 

"  Why,  Bosson,"  said  Black  George, 
waggishly,  "  I  hope  as  how  you've  run  the 
keer  out  o' ye  by  this  time;  for  I'll  be 


dog-gone    ef  you  can't   travel    a    few.  on 
perdkelar  occasions  !  " 

"  Oui,  Monsieur,"  added  Pierre,  "  vous 
'ave  von  le  plus  grande — vot  you  call  him 
— locomotion,  eh  ?  '' 

•"But  how,  in  the  .name  of  all  that  is 
wonderful,  did  YOU  escape,"  rejoined  I. 

"Just  as  nateral  as  parkin  to  a  pup." 
answered  Black  George.  "  We  didn't 
none  on  us  hev  no  fear  no  time  ;  and  was 
only  jest  playin  possum,  to  see  ef  we  could 
make  your  hair  stand ;  never  'spectin, 
though,',  you  was  a-goin  to  put  out  and 
leave  us." 

"  But  pray  tell  me  how  you  extricated 
yourselves  ?  "  said  I,  feeling  rather  crest 
fallen  at  my  recent  unheroic  display. 

"  Why,  jest  as  easy  as  shootin — and  jest 
that,  hoss,  and  nothin  else." 

"  Explain  yourself." 

"  Well  then,  we  kind  o'  waited  till  them 
critters  got  up,  so  as  we  could  see  thar 
peepers  shine,  and  then  we  all  burnt 
powder  and  tumbled  over  two  or  three 
leaders.  This  skeered  them  as  was  behind, 
and  they  jest  sniffed,  and  snorted,  and  sot 
off  ayther  ways  like  darnation.  It  warnt 
anything  wonderful — that  warnt — and  it 
'ud  been  onnateral  for  'em  to  done  any 
thing  else." 

"  I  say.  your  honor,"  rejoined  Teddy, 
with  a  significant  wink,  "  it's  like,  now, 
we've  made  jackasses  o'  ourselves,  barring 
your  honor." 

"Very  like,"  returned  I  biting  my  lips 
with  vexation,  "  all  but  the  barring." 

The  fnith  is,  I  felt  much  as  one  c>*ught 
in  a  mean  act,  and  I  would  have  given  no 
small  sum  to  have  had  the  joke  on  some 
one  else.  I  detected  many  a  quiet  smile 
curling  the  lips  of  my  companions,  when 
they  thought  I  did  noc  notice  them,  and  I 
knew  by  this  they  were  laughing  in  theii 
sleeves,  as  the  saying  is  ;  but,  being  in  my 
service,  did  not  care  to  irritate  my  feelings 
by  a  more  open  display.  It  was  very  gall 
ing  to  a  sensitive  person  to  know  he  has 
made  himself  ridiculous,  and  is  a  private 
subject  of  jest  with  his  inferiors.  It  is  no 
use  for  one  under  such  circumstances  to 
fret,  and  foam,  and  sho*  temper.  No  ! 
such  things  only  make  the  matter  worse. 
The  best  way  is  to  come  out  boldly,  own 
to  the  joke,  and  join  in  the  laugh.  Acting 
upon  this,  I  said  : 


36 


LENT     LEOTI;    OR, 


"  Friends,  I  nave  made  a  fool  of  myself 
—  I  am  aware  of  it — and  you  are  at  liberty 
to  enjoy  the  joke  to  its  full  extent.  But 
remember,  you  must  not  spread  it  !  and 
when  we  reach  a  station,  consider  me  your 
debtor  for  a  '  heavy  wet,'  all  round." 

This  proved  a  decided  hit.  All  laughed 
freely  at  the  time,  and  that  was  the  last  I 
heard  of  it,  till  I  fulfilled  my  liquor  pledge 
at  Uintah  Fort,  when  Black  George  ven 
tured  the  toast,  "  Buffler  and  a  run," 
which  was  followed  with  roars  of  mirth  at 
my  expense,  and  there  the  matter  ended. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

A  BEAUTIFUL  VALLEY A  "LEGEND THE  OLD 

TRAPPER'S  STOKV  —  FATE  OF  BEN  BOSE  — 
REFLECTIONS TEDDY'S  ACCOUNT  OF  HIM 
SELF DEATH  OF  HIS  PARENTS THE 

"  OULD  PRAAST  " HIS  FIRST  LOVE THE 

WAT   HE    CAME   TO    LEAVE    IRELAND  

ALARMING  ONSET  OF  INPIAyS. 

PASSING  Uintah  Fort,  which  awakened 
many  painful  recollections  of  what  had 
Dccurred  since  my  former  visit  here  in 
company  with  my  lost  friend,  we  took  a 
southerly  course,  and  crossing  Green  river, 
continued  over  an  undulating,  mountain 
ous  country  to  Grand  river,  and  thence  to 
the  most,  northern  range  of  the  Green 
Mountains,  where  gush  forth  the  head  wa 
ters  of  the  Arkansas  and  Rio  Grande. 
Here  we  came  to  a  beautiful  valley,  shut 
in  by  high  hills,  through  which  flowed  a 
limpid  stream,  whose  banks  wore  a  velvet 
covering  of  rich  green  grass  and  innum 
erable  wild  flowers.  A  little  back  from 
<he  stream,  on  either  side,  was  a  delight 
ful  grove,  stretching  away  in  rows  of  ar 
tificial  regularity.  In  fact,  from  what  I 
saw,  and  the  information  I  gathered  from 
my  cumpaffnvns  d' voyage,  I  have  every  rea 
son  to  believe  this. valley  was  at  one  time 
a  nobleman's  park.  I  said  it  was  shut  in 
by  hills  ;  but  there  WAS  one  outlet  toward 
the  west,  where  the  streamlet  flowd  gen 
tly  away  between  two  ridges.  Entering 
through  this  pass,  \ou  are  struck  with  the. 


singular  beauty  of  the  spot ;  and  not  more 
so  than  by  a  huge  pile  of  ruins  on  a  gen 
tle  eminence  away  to  the  right.  Here,  aa 
tradition  goes,  once  stood  a  famous  castle, 
belonging  to  a  Spanish  nobleman,  who, 
for  some  state  intrigue,  was  exiled  his 
country,  but  who  subsequently  flourished 
here  in  great  power.  He  had  a  beautiful 
daughter,  to  whom  a  descendent  of  the 
Aztecs  paid  court ;  but  neither  the  father 
nor  the  daughter  fancied  him,  and  his  suit 
was  rejected.  Enraged  at  this,  he  swore 
revenge ;  and  possessing  power  and  influ 
ence  over  a  barbarous  race,  he  succeeded 
by  bribes  and  treachery  in  accomplishing 
his  fell  design.  The  lord  of  the  castle,  his 
daughter  and  attendants,  all  fell  victims  ; 
and  the  mighty  structure,  touched  by  the 
devastating  fingers  of  Time,  at  last  be 
came  a  heap  of  ruins.  Such  is  a  briel 
|  outline  of  the  tradition,  which  I  give  foi 
!  the  benefit  of  future  romancers. 

As  we  entered  this  ancient  retreat,  the 
bright  sun  of  a  hot  July  day  was  just  be 
ginning  to  dip  below  the  line  of  the  west- 
era  horizon,  and  his  yellow  light  stream  • 
ing  along  the  surface  of  the  meandering 

O  O  £1 

waters,   gave    them    the  appearance  of  i\ 

long  stream    of    molten,    quivering   gold 

Everything  in  and  about  the  place  seemed 

to    possess    the    charm    of    enchantment. 

Beautiful  and  merry  songsters,  of  all  hues, 

j  warbled  sweet  tones  among  the   brunches 

of  the  trees,  or  amid  the  tall    grass  and 

flowers   beneath   them.      Here  and  there 

j  small  animals  of  the  hare  species  might  be 

j  seen  running  to  and  fro,  while  the  waters 

i  of  the  rivulet  occasionally  displayed   the 

'  shiny  sides  of  a  mountain  trout.     Take  it 

all  in  all,  to  me  the  phice  seemed  a  second 

!  Eden  ;  and  when  I  turned  my  eyes  upon 

i  the  old  ruins,  my  imagination  at  once  car- 

i'ried  me  far  back  into  the  dark  ages  of  the 

I  past,  and  the  strange  tales  I  had  heard 

I  seemed  literally  enacting  before  me. 

"  Thar's  been  a  heap  o'  blood  spilt heie- 
;  a-ways,  take  one  time  with  another,"  ob 
served  Black  George,  as,  with  our  pipes  in 
|  our  mouths,  we  sat  round  the  camp-fire  in 
;  the  evening. 

"Faith!    and    it's   mesilf,    now,"    s»ui 
.Teddy,    "that  'ud    be'afther  saaing   the 
!  spot  as  hasn't  been  likewise,  in  this  hautli- 
ienish  part  of  Christendom." 
i      "Oui,   Monsieur  Teddy,"  rejoined   th>- 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE     FAR     WEST. 


37 


"  Ha,  ha  !  by  gar  sacre  ! 
dat  pe  ver  nice  spoke  —  vcr  nice.  You 
Kail  make  von  raoclie  grande  —  vot  you  call 
him  —  oratore,  eh  !  ' 

"  But  tell  us  what  you  know,"  said  I, 
addressing  the  old  trapper,  whom  I  was 
anxious  to  draw  out  in  one  of  his  marvel 
ous  tales. 

•'  Well,  boss,  I'll  gin  ye  the  gist  of  a 
spree  I  once  had  here,  ef  Teddy'll  agree 
to  tell  a  story  when  I'm  done." 

"  What  say  you,  Teddy  ?  " 

"  Och,  now,  it's  not  me  mother's  child 
us  was  iver  blist  wid  the  gift  of  gab  ;  but 
to  make  the  time  slip  off  asy,  I'll  do  me 
trying  of  it,  rather  thin  lose  that  of  Mis- 
ther  Black  George,  barring  that  I'd  lose 
jrhat  I  niver  had,  and  that  'ud  be  lost 
•.wice  d'ye  mind  !  " 

"  As  how,  Teddy  ?  " 

"Why,  your  honor,  and  sure  wouldn't 
I  loso  the  hearing  the  story  towld,  and  the. 
story  itsilf  besides  ?  and  troth,  wouldn't 
Jiat  be  two  ?  and  isn't  two  twice,  now  ?  " 

"  Very  good  for  you  ;  but  come,  Black 
Gerrge,  go  on  with  the  tale  !" 

Here  the  old  mountaineer  took  out  his 
pipe,  knocked  out  the  ashes,  put.  some  of 
ihc  weed  into  his  mouth,  and  after  twist 
ing  and  turning  himself  into  a  comfortable 
position,  thus  began  : 

ye  here,  I  spect,  as 
and  the  more's  the 
a  screamer,  he  was, 
He  could  eat  more 
bnffler  meat,  drink  more  whisky,  chaw 
more  bacca,  cuss  louder  and  ttl!  bigger 
lies,  nor  any  white  nigger  this  coon  ever 
seed  —  and  that's  a  dog-gone  fact.  Maybe 
you  think  as  how  I  exaggerrate  ;  but  I  ken 
jest  prove  all  I've  said  and  more  too. 
Why,  I've-  seed  Ben  afore  now,  when  hi.s 
meat  bag  war  right  smart  empty,  chaw  up 
half  a  buflk-r,  all  wet  down  with  about 
iwo  gallon  o'  whisky,  and  then  swear  till 
all  the  trees  round  him  'ud  git  the  ager, 
that  ef  he  didn't  git  somethin  to  eat  soon, 
lu;'d  hev  to  go  a  woltin  with  starvation. 
Anl  a  ^  for  lyin  —  0  he  could  tell  sich  lies, 
could  Ben,  and  swear  to  'em  so  parlict, 
that  though  you  knowed  all  the  time  they 
was  lies,  you'd  sort  o'  b'lievw  'em,  and 
wouldn't  care  to  do  nothin  else  ;  for  you'd 
kind  o7  say  to*  yourself,  ef  they  ain't  facts 
they  ort  to  b<\  and  that's  the  same  thing. 


"  Thar's  none  o 
kuowed  Ben  Bose; 
p'ty  ;  for  Ben  was 
ri':'ht  out  and  out. 


Why  Ben  used  to  tell  sich  almighty  lies 
and  stick  to  'em  so  long,  that  he'd  git  to 
believing  'em  himself,  he  would — and  then 
t-e'd  quit  'em  ;  for  he  war  never  know'd 
to  tell  anything  as  he  suspicioned  bein  true 
ef  he  could  help  it.  The  only  time  this 
child  ever  hearn  him  tell  a  fact,  was  onc't 
in  a  joke,  when  he  said  he  was  the  biggest 
liar  on  arth  ;  but  he  made  up  for  that  right 
purty,  by  swearin  the  next  minuet  he'd 
never  told  a  lie  in  his  life. 

"But  whar  am  I  gittin  to?  Well,  ye 
see  by  this,  that  Ber  was  one  of  the  boys, 
he  was,  and  nothin  else.  Poor  feller !  he 
went  under  at  last  like  a  sojer.  He  gin  in 
the  pint  right  out  thar-a-ways,  whar  ye 
see  the  light  shinin  on  that  big  tre'1.." 

"Ah  !  then  he  died  here?" 

"Well  he  did,"  said  the  old  trappei 
with  a  sigh;  "but  he  died  game,  and 
that's  suthin.  Ic's  how  he  went  out  I'm 
goin  to  'lighten  ye  ;  but  I'm  goin  to  make 
the  story  short,  for  somehow  these  here 
old  by-gones  makes  me  feel  watery  like, 
and  I  never  bad  much  incline  for  water, 
no  how.  Augh  ! 

"Ben  was  purty  much  of  a  gentleman, 
any  how,  and  me  and  him,  when  we'd 
meet,  used  to  come  together  like  two 
pieces  o'  wax,  and  stick  to  each  other  like 
darnation,  ef  not  more.  The  last  time  I 
ever  seed  Ben,  I  got  on  his  "run"  jest 
back  here  a  few  mile.  He  was  jest  makiu 
his  tracks  out  from  Taos,  and  this  coon 
war  jest  crossin  over  from  Bent's  Fort. 
Me  and  him  had  two  muleys  apiece,  and 
was  both  goin  out  alone,  and  happened  to 
meet  jest  whur  two  trails  jine. 

"'How  is  ye?'  sez  he,  'and  whar 
bound  ? ' 

"•Why  I'm  some,'  I  \ez  back  agin, 
'  and  out  for  a  venter.' 

"  •  Jest  from  Bent's  ?  ' 

"  '  No  whar  else,  boss.' 

"  '  I'm  from  Taos.  Let's  splice  and 
double  the  game.  Augh  1 ' 

"  So  we  jined  in,  and  went  talkin  'bout 
this  thing  and  that,  and  tryin  which  could 
outlie  tother,  till  we  got  to  this  here  valley 
and  camped. 

"  '  What  d'ye  think  o'  this  place,  any 
how  ?  'sez  he. 

"  '  I  reckon  it's  a  few,'  sez  I. 

"  •  D'ye  ever  see  anv  ghosts  hero  ? '  set 
he. 


LLN1    LEOTI;    OR, 


•' «  Nei  2r,  hoss.' 

"  '  I  hev,'  sez  he  '  I  was  cam  pin  here- 
one  night,  and'd  just  got  ready  to  blind 
my  daylights,  when  I  happ'd  to  cast  one 
over  thar  to  t.iat  old  castle,  and  may  I  be 
sot  down  for  a  liar,  ef  1  didn't  see  a  live- 
ghost  standin  right  on  that  big  pile,  all 
dressed  in  white,  and  lookin  orful  serious 
right  at  me.  At  fust  I  tried  to  think  it  a 
opterkal  collusion,'  sez  he;  'but  then  I 
knowed  right  off  that  ef  I  didn't  see  that 
1  didn't  see  nothin  ;  and  ef  I  didn't  see 

nothin.  what  in  did  I  see?  Well, 

arter  squintin  at  it,'  he  sez,  'till  my  eye- 
kivers  got  so  heavy  I  had  to  put  splinters 
under  'em  to  prop  'em  up,  I  riz  up  on  to 
my  travelin  pins,  and  sot  out  on  a  explore, 
to  see  ef  'twas  the  ghost  of  a  white  man 
or  nigger.  On  that,'  sea  he,  '  the  ghost 
got  miffed,  and  makiri  jest  one  step,  stood 
right  plum  beside  me.' 

"  '  Ben  Bose,'  sez  the  ghost,  '  I  want 
you. ' 

"  '  And  so  does  the  devil,'  sez  Ben. 

"  '  Well,  I'm  him,'  sez  the  ghost ;  and 
at  that  Ben  sez  the  thing  jest  turned  black  in 
the  face,  and  looked  oriul  skeerful. 

"  '  Hadn't  you  better  wait  till  I  git  rea 
dy  ? '  axed  Ben. 

"  '  No,'  sea  the-  old  chap,  '  I  want  you 
now  ; '  and  at  that  Ben  sez  he  took  hold 
on  him,  and  his  fingers  felt  hot  as  burnt 
piteh. 

"  •  Well,'  sez  Ben,  '  I  jest  clinched  in  to 
him,  and  sich  a  tussle  you  never  seed.  Fust 
me  and  then  Brimstone,  and  then  Brim 
stone-  and  me,  for  two  mortal  hours.  But, 
by  hokey  !  I  licked,'  sez  Ben,  '  and  the 
felle-r  mosied  with  a  Hea'n  his  ear,  nnd 
his  tail  hangin  down  like  a  licked  puppy's.' 

"Now,  boys,"  continued  Black  George. 
"  as  I've  said  afore,  Ben  was  the  all-fired- 
cst  liar  on  earth,  or  else  I  might  a  b'lieved 
BUthin  o*  this  ;  for  he  hadn't  but  jest  done 
Kpinnin  it,  when  bang,  bang,  bang — whizz, 
whizz,  whix.z  —  yeah  up  !  yeaho  !  whirp  ! 
come  ringin  in  our  ears,  as  ef  the  arth  was 
all  alive  with  shoolin  niggers — and  that's 
a  scripter',  dog-gone  fact,  as  I'm  a  gen 
tleman  !  (  Somebody  gin  me  a  chaw. 
Thankee!  Old  by-gones  starts  the  juice — 
uugh  !  ) 

•' '  0  the  infarnals  !'  sez  Ben,  jumpin  up 
*nd  showin  blood  on  his  noddle.  '  I'm 
meat,  sartiu.  But  I'll  her  company 


along, '  sez  he  ;    and  he   ups  and 
away,   and  thro  wed  the  nigh  one,  as  \rbs 
comin  up,  right  purty. 

"  Two  on  'em, '  sez  I,  '  for  a  pint*  '  au  i 
old  Sweet-love  gin  the  second  one  th« 
belly-ache,  instanter. 

" '  Now  let's  dodge,'  sez  Ben, '  and  keep 
our  hair  ; '  and  with  that  he  grabbed  hold 
o'  me,  and  both  on  us  put  out  for  the  hilla 

"  But  Ben  'ud  got  a  settler,  and  felt  top 
heavy.  He  travel'd  'bout  fifty  yard,  with 
my  arm  in  his'n,  and  five  yellin  devila 
close  behind  us,  and  then  he  pitched  oh  to 
me,  and  said  he'd  got  to  quit,  and  axed  mi 
to  lift  his  hair*  and  keep  it  from  the  cussed 
niggers.  I  hated  to  do  it  likr  darnation — 
but  thar  wasn't,  no  help.  Ef  I  didn't  the 
skunks  would  ;  and  so  I  outs  with  my 
butcher,  and  off  come  his  scalp  afore  yeu 
could  say  beans. 

"  '  Thankee,'  sez  Ben.  '  Good-by,  old 
hoss,  and  put  out,  or  you'll  lose  two  en 
'em. ' 

"  I  knowed  he  war  right,  and  though  1 
hated  to  quit,  I  seed  thar  was  no  help,  ard 
I  started  for  the  old  castle  yonder,  fodder/n 
Sweet-love  as  I  went.  I  hadn't  got  fur, 
when  1  knowed  by  the  yell  the  rascals  li£,d 
come  up  to  him.  They  'spected  to  make 
a  raise  thar,  and  two  stopped  for  his  fur, 
and  the  rest  followed  me.  Ben  was  cunnin 
though,  and  they  didn't  never  tell  what 
happ'd — them  fellers  didn't — I'll  be  dog 
gone  ef  they  did  !  Ben  kind  o'  playoj 
possum,  and  they  thought  he  was  gom 
under,  and  so  while  they  was  toolin  tlui 
time,  Ben  had  his  eye  skinned,  burnt  hip 
pups'j  powder,  and  th rowed  both  on  'em 
cold  right  han'some,  and  then  turned  over 
and  kicked  the  bucket  himself.  I  managed 
to  plug  another  jest  about  then,  and  tin- 
other  two  scamps  sot  oft,  instanter,  for  * 
more  sal-u-bri-ous  climat- — they  did — and 
ef  you'd  only  seed  'em  streak  it,  you'd  H 
thought  lightnin  warn't  no  whar.  Why, 
jest  to  tell  the  clean  truth,  I'll  be  doggone 
ef  they  didn't  travel  so  fast,  that  a  strrak 
o'  fire  followed  'em,  and  the  animals  as 
had  been  snoozin  on  thar  way,  waked  ap 
and  looked  out,  and  concluded  the  arto 
was  burnin  most  conscrimptiously,  and  so 
they  put  out  arter  them  same  9yin  nigger*. 
Fact,  by  Judas  !  and  ef  you  don't  b'licv* 


•  Take  his  «calp.     -  PUtote. 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


»t,  you  kcu  jest  bile  me  for  a  persimmon 
»ud  no  questions  axed." 

"  0,  of  course,"  said  I,  as  Black  George 
paused  and  looked  around  triumphantly, 
"  we  all  believe  it,  and  1  should  like  to  see 
the  man  that  would  not." 

"  Faith,  now,"  chimed  in  Teddy,  tipping 
me  the  wink,  "  the  man  that  wouldn't  be- 
lave  all  that  asy,  wouldn't  belave  that  the 
moon's  made  o'  graan  chaase,  nor  that 
Metooselah  (  blissings  on  his  name  of 
scripter  mimory ! )  was  twice  as  big  as  a 
maating  house.  " 

"  Ha,  ha  !  ver  fine,"  chimed  in  the 
Frenchman,  rubbing  his  hands  and  giving 
a  peculiar  shrug.  "lam  ver  moche  de 
light.  I  sail  pelieve  him  till  I  pe  von — vot 
vou  call  him — gray  beard,  eh  !" 

The  other  mountaineers  laughed,  winked 
at  one  another,  but  made  no  reply,  and 
Black  George  resumed,  with  all  the  gravity 
of  a  p-irson  : 

"  Well,  sence  you  b'lieve  it,  I  don't  see 
r  j  use  as  I'll  hev  to  prove  it — and  that's 
Euthin  gained,"  he  added,  sctto  voce. 
"  Well,  when  I  seed  the  field  was  clear,  I 
jest  mosied  back  to  Ben,  to  see  how  he'd 
eome  out,  for  then  I  didn't  know.  I  shuf 
fled  up  to  him,  and  thar  I  seed  the  varmint 
lyin  by  his  side,  clean  meat  and  nothin  else, 
and  Ben  Bose  as  dead  nor  a  biled  kitten. 


ings.  The  story  in  the  main  I  believed  to 
b<?  true — at  least  that  part  which  related 
co  the  death  of  the  trapper — and  I  could 
not  avoid  some  very  unpleasant » ^flections. 
Who  was  Ben  Bose,  and  how  came  he 
here  ?  Had  he  any  near  and  dear  rela 
tives  ?  Ay,  perchance  he  had  a  sister — 
a  mother  —  who  knows  but  a  wife  and 
children  ? — all  of  whom  loved  him  with  a. 
pure  affection.  He  had  been  driven,  it 
might  be,  by  the  stern  arm  of  necessity, 
to  gain  a  living  for  himself  and  them 
among  the  wild  fastnesses  of  the  moun 
tains.  He  had  toiled  and  struggled,  braved 
dangers  and  hardships,  with  the  bright 
hope  of  one  day  returning  to  them,  to  part 
no  more  in  life.  And  they,  all  ignorant  of 
his  untimely  fate,  had  possibly  been — nay, 
might  be  now — anxiously  looking  for  his 
return.  Alas!  if  so,  they  must  forever 
look  in  vain.  No  news  of  him,  perad- 
venture,  would  ever  reach  their  ears — and 
certainly  no  Ben  Bose  would  ever  again 
appear.  Should  they  venture,  however, 
to  make  inquiry  among  the  trappers  who 
had  known  him,  what  painful  tidings  would 
the  common  brief  rejoinders,  "  he's  gone 
under,"  or  "been  rubbed  out,"  convey 
to  them,  and  how  lacerate  their  sinking 
hearts  !  Poor  fellow  !  Here  he  slept  his 
last  sleep,  unheeding  and  unheeded,  his 


I  felt  kind  o'  orful  for  a  while,  and  had  to   memory  forgotten,  or  recalled  only  on  an 
play    the    squaw   a   leetle,    jest    for   old   occasion  like  this,  as  a  fire-side  pastime. 


acquaintance's  sake.  When  I'd  rubbed 
the  water  out  o'  my  spy-glasses,  I  sot  to 
work,  dug  a  hole,  and  kivered  Ben  over 
de-cent,  at  least  a  foot  below  wolf-smell. 
Then  I  went  a  hair  raisin,  and  lifted  all 
the  skunks'  top-knots,  took  all  thc«-  muskets 
and  powder,  and  sot  down  to  my  lone 
camp-fire,  feelin  as  used  up  and  womanish 
as  et  IV.  shuk  with  the  ager  a  month.  The 
only  feel  good  I  had  that  night,  was  hearin 
the  infernal  wolves  tearin  the  meat  off  o' 

them dirty  niggers'  bones.    The  next 

mornin  I  sot  on  agin,  and  took  on  Ben's 
niuleys,  and  it  was  a  purty  considerable 
time  afore  I  made  another  trail  in  this  here 
valley.  Thar,  you've  got  the  meat  o'  the 
ttyry,  and  I'm  done.  Au«»h  !  " 

Though  more  familiar  with  mountain  life 
and  all  its  rough  scenes  than  when  I  first 
heard  the  old  trapper  relate  his  adventures, 
yet  the  tale  he  had  just  told  in  his  rude, 
«if-hand  way,  produced  many  painful  feel- 


Alas  !  sighed  I,  "  what  an  unenviable 
fate  !  and  how  many  hundred  poor  human 
beings  like  him  are  doomed  to  share  it !" 

I  was  recalled  from  my  rumination,  by 
hearing  clamors  for  a  story  from  Teddy, 
who,  now  that  Black  George  had  told  his, 
seemed  little  inclined  to  favor  us. 

"Remember  your  promise,"  said  I, 
joining  in  with  the  others. 

"  Faith  !  "  answered  Teddy,  resorting 
to  his  peculiar  habit,  when  puzzled  or  per 
plexed,  of  scratching  his  head  :  "  Faith, 
now,  gintlemen,  if  ye'll  allow  a  poor  body 
like  meself  to  obsarve,  it's  me  mother's 
own  son  as  is  thinking  it's  a  mighty  tight 
fix  I'm  in.  Troth  !  ye  axes  me  for  a  story, 
and  it's  hardly  one  that  meself  knows  to 
tell  yees.  Och  !  I  has  it !  "  he  exclaimed, 
his  eyes  brightening  with  a  sudden  thought , 
"  I  has  it  now,  claan  at  me  fingers'  ends, 
barring  the  nails,  which  isn't  counted  al 
sich  times,  and  won't  make  any  difference 


40 


LUNi     LtlOTI;     OK, 


lor  being  longer  come.  I  has  it !  I'll  tell 
yees  how  I  com'd  to  lave  ould  Ii eland — 
the  sift  aat  land  o'  murphies  and  murthering 
fine  ladies — bless  their  angel  sowls,  ivery 
baastly  one  on  'em  i  barring  the  baastly 
part,  now,  which  1  only  mintioned  by  way 
ot'  smoothing  the  sintenee." 

"  Yes,  yes,  give  us  the  yarn,"  cried  a 
_  voice,  "  and  don't  spin  it  too  long,  tor  it's 
git.tin  late." 

"  Ay,  Teddy,"  I  added,  "  I  think  that 
will  do  —  only  make  it  short." 

"By  gar!"  rejoined  Pierre,  having 
recourse  to  his  box>  "  I  think  so,  Monsieur. 
Cut  him  oft  so,  von  two,  tree  feets,  and 
den  him  be  von  ver  exsallent  good,  eh  ! 
Je  le  crois." 

"Will,  ye  sae,  thin  gintlcmen,"  resum 
ed  Teddy,  "  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  as 
Farther  Murphy  used  to  say  whin  he  wint 
to  carve  a  chicken  tail  foremost,  1  was 
born  in  ould  Ireland,,  not  a  tousand  miles 
from  Cor-r-k,  ayther  ways.  Me  father — 
pace  to  his  ashes  ! — barring  I  niver  saan 
the  proof  he  was  me  father,  and  there  was 
dispute  about  it — was  a  gintleman  laborer, 
as  had  plenty  to  do  all  his  life  and  little  to 
ate.  He  loved  whisky,  the  ould  chap— 
spaking  riverintly — and  one  day  he  took  it 
into  his  head  to  die,  by  token  as  he  said 
there  wasn't  air  enough  for  ivery  body  to 
brathe,  and  he'd  jist  sacrifice  himself  a 
marthyr  for  the  good  of  others.  Will,  me 
mother  —  Heaven  rist  her  sowl !  —  she 
became  a  widder  in  coorse,  and  took  on 
mighty  bad  about  her  Saint  Dennis,  as  she 
called  me  dead  father — though  it's  little 
of  a  saint  as  she  thought  him  whin  living — 
and  so  to  drown  her  sorrow  she  took  to 
the  bothel  too,  and  soon  afther  died  spaach- 
loss,  calling  for  wather,  wather,  the  ounly 
time  I  had  iver  heerd  her  mintion  it,  and  by 
token  of  that  I  knowed  she  was  uncanny. 

"Will,  gintlemen,  ye  sae,  by  raason  of 
both  my  parents  dying,  I  was  lift  a  hilp- 
less  infant  orphan  of  fourteen,  widout 
futh  jr  or  mother,  or  a  shilling  in  me  pocket, 
or  a  divil  of  a  pocket  in  me  coat,  barring 
that  it  wasn't  a  coat  at  all,  at  all  ounly 
rags  sowed  thegither,  jist.  Me  father's 
and  mother's  estate  comprehinded  ounly  a 
bed,  some  pots  and  kithles,  two  broken 
stools,  and  a  table,  as  had  it's  legs  cut  off 
for  kindlingv.raod.  So,  ye  sae,  that  was 
•OOB  sittled,  and  thin  I  was  lift  a  poor, 


houseless  wanderer,  widout  a  place  to  go  I 
to,  or  a  relation  in  the  wide  wor-r-ld,  bar-  1 
ring  three  brothers  as  was  away,  an  uncle,  I 
two  aunts,  and  about  a  dozen  cousins,  all  J 
poorer  nor  mesilf.  Will,  I  took  to  crying  1 
for  a  living,  and  a  mighty  nice  time  1  had  \ 
on't,  till  one  day  Father  Murphy  comc'd 
along- — blis.sings  on  his  name,  the  oiild  ; 
spalpeen  ! — and  axed  me  would*  I  like  :»  ] 
come  and  live  wid  him. 

•'  Faith  !  maybe  it  wasn't  long  saying  ] 
yis  I  was  ;  and  so  the  ould  praast  took  me 
home  wid  him,  and  said  if  I'd  work  right 
har-r-d,  and  a  good  boy,  I  should  live  as 
will  as  his  pigs — which  was  mighty  will. 
he  said,  for  they  got  fat  on't  ;  and  so  did 
I,  barring  that  all  the  flish  as  crept  on  me 
bones  over  the  night,  was  worked  oft'  o'  me 
through  the  day  ;  howiver,  it's  bether  nor 
starving  to  dea;h,  I  sez  to  mesilf,  barring 
it's  not  much  choice  I  sees  in  it,  and  one'a 
jisfc  as  asy  as  the  totlier,  and  a  good  bil 
asier. 

"  Now's  you're  afther  having  a  short 
story,  I'll  skip  over  four  years,  and  till  ye 
what  turned  up  thin,  by  way  of  variety. 

"  The  praast,  Father  Murphy,  ye  sae, 
had  a  beautiful  niece,  as  was  jist  my  age, 
barring  that  she  was  a  couple  o'  years 
younger.  Now  ye  must  know  I  iver  had 
a  fondness  for  the  female  sex,  and  I  kind 
o'  took  to  liking  Kathleen  by  raason  of 
natheral  instinct.  And  Kathleen,  the 
darling!  she  sort  o'  took  to  liking  me  be 
times,  more  by  token  I  was  a  dacent 
body,  and  she  hadn't  inny  one  bether  to 
like  :  and  so  betwaan  us,  we  both  though! 
of  each  other  waking,  and  dramed  about 
'em  in  our  slaap.  Now  divil  a  word  did 
the  praast  know  of  it,  at  all,  and  that  was 
all  the  bether  for  the  pair  of  us. 

"  At  last  I  got  to  making  love  to  her, 
and  tilling  her  she  was  too  swaat  a  being  to 
be  living  all  alone  by  hersilf  jist,  and  that 
if  her  poor  parints  should  be  taken  away 
like  mine  was  and  she  become  a  poor 
orphan  like  mesilf,  what  would  she  be 
afther  doing  for  a  protector,  and  all  thim 
things.  She  cried,  she  did,  and  she  sez; 

"  '  Teddy,'  sez  she, '  what  would  becom« 
o'  me  ?  ' 

"  '  It's  not  knowing,'  I  sez,  '  and  it's  a 
mighty  har-r-d  thing  to  go  by  guess  work 
on  sich  occasions,' 

"  At  that  she  .cried  the  more,  by  token 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


41 


inr  innei  faalings  was  touched,  and  axed 
ne  would  I  conthrive  a  way  to  git  her  out 

her  troubles. 

•' '  Ah,  faith,'  sez  I,  all  of  a  sudden,  '  I 
lave  it  now  ! ' 

"  '  What  is,  Teddy,  dear  ! '  sez  she. 

"  '  Och  !  come  to  your  Teddy's  arms, 
md  he'll  be  father,  and  mother,  and 
actuals  and  drink  to  yees,  my  own  swaat 
Kathleen  !  '  I  sez." 

"Aha  !  "  interrupted  the  excited  French - 
nan,  "  dat  vas  von  ver  nice  bon,  exsallent 
coup  de  grace,  eh!  Certainment,  je  le 
crois." 

"Ah,  the  darling!"  pursued  Teddy — 
'blissing  on  her  sowl,  be  it  where  it  will, 
and  pace  to  her  ashes,  if  she's  dead,  which 
I'm  not  knowing,  and  hoping  conthrawise 
— she  fill  right  into  me  arms,  and  com- 
ninced  crying  jist  like  wather  dripping 
through  a  seive.  And  thin,  ye  sae,  I  cried 
too,  more  by  token  o'  saaing  her  cry,  nor 
that  I  felt  bad  like  at  all,  jist.  Will,  I 
wiped  me  eyes  wid  me  sleeve,  and  had  jist 
segun  to  say  comfortable  things  to  her, 
whin  who  should  happen  along  but  the 
ould  chap  of  a  praast,  her  uncle  ! 

"  '  Och,  ye  spalpeen  !   and  what   is  it 

're  at  there,  ye  villain  ?  '  sez  he. 

"  At  this,  Kathleen  let  an  awful  scraam, 
and  rin  for  the  house,  laving  me  alone  to 
3 ght  the  ould  tiger-cat  as  best  I  could.  I 
51t  mighty  small  jist  then,  ye'd  bether 
belave.  and  wished  wid  all  my  heart  an 
arthquake  would  open  and  swaller  the  pair 
of  us.  I  saan  the  praast  was  in  a  dangerous 
timper,  and  I  knowed  something  was  com 
ing,  asy  as  squaaling  to  a  pig.  But  I'll 
not  provoke  his  riverince,  I  sez  to  mesilf, 
or  he'll  jist  murther  me  outright,  widout 
judge  or  jury. 

"  '  Who  are  ye,'  sez  he  coming  up  and 
taking  me  by  the  collar  of  me  coat,  bar 
ring  that  me  coat  had  no  collar,  and  I 
stood  in  me  shirt  sleeve^,  jist."  '  Who  are 
ye  ?  '  sez  he  ;  and  thin  he  shook  me  till 
me  teeth  rattled. 

"'I'm  Teddy  O'Lagherty,  your  river- 
race,'  sez  I. 

"  '  Ye're  a  Daastly  dog  ! '  sez  he. 

"  '  Troth,  and  so  was  me  father  before 
me, 'sez  I,  '  and  hisn  before  that,' — for  I 
wanted  to  plase  him.  • 

"  '  Ye're  a  blaggard  !  '  sez  he. 

41  '  Thai  comes  by  nather,'  sez  1. 


"'Ye're  a  scoundrel!  —  a  villian  —a 
maan,  contimptible  spalpeen  !  '  sez  he. 

"  '  Sure,  and  that  comes  by  associations,' 
sez  I. 

"  At  this  Father  Murphy  got  as  red  in 
the  face  as  a  baat,  and  'pon  me  sow)  I 
thought  he  would  swaller  me  widout  cook 
ing  or  buther. 

"  '  What  was  yees  doing  here  wid  Kath 
leen  ?  '  sez  he. 

"  '  Loving  her,  your  riverince,'  sez  I. 

"  '  And  how  dare  you  love  sich  as  she  ? ' 
sez  he. 

"  '  Troth  !  and  I'm  thinking  her  as  good 
as  rnesilf,  your  riverince,'  I  sez. 

"  At  that  I  thought  the  ould  praast 
would  choke  himsilf,  he  held  his  grip  so 
tight  upon  his  own  throat.  Jabers !  but 
it  was  rejoicing,  I  was,  that  it  wasn't 
mesilf's  he  fingered  that  ways. 

"'Teddy,'  sez  he,  afther  a  bit,  and 
spaking  more  calm  like,  though  I  knowed 
the  divil  was  behind  it  all:  'Teddy  I'm 
going  to  have  yees  whipped  to  death,  and 
thin  sint  away  for  a  baastly  vagabone,  to 
arn  yees  own  living  in  the  cowld  world,' 
sez  he. 

"'Jist  as  plases  your  riverince,'  sez  I 
'  But  sure,  ye'll  be  afther  knowing  I've 
done  many  worse  things  than  love  the 
swaat  Kathleen,  blissings  on  her  sowl ! ' 

"  '  And  do  ye  raaly  love  her  ? '  sez  he, 
in  a  softher  voice. 

"  '  Och,  your  riverince,  and  is  it  mesilf 
as  loves  good  aetables,  now  ?  ' 

"  'Will,  thin,'  sez  he,  '  for  the  sake  of 
me  niece,  as  is  the  apple  o'  me  eye,  I'll 
pardon  yees,  on  one  condition.' 

"  '  And,  sure,  what  might  that  be,  your 
riverince  ?  '  sez  I. 

"  '  That  ye'll  lave  the  counthry,  and 
niver  come  into  it  agin,'  sez  he. 

"  '  What,'  sez  I,  faaling  me  anger  rising, 
'and  lave  darling  Kathleen  all  alone  by 
hersilf,  widout  a  protector!  Be  jabers ! 
Father  Murphy,  it's  me  own  mother's  son 
as  'ud  sae  me  own  head  cut  off  first,  and 
thin  I  wouldn't.' 

"  '  What,'  sez  he,  gitting  his  dander  riz 
agin,  '  and  does  ye  dare  to  talk  that  ways 
to  me,  a  praast  of  the  gospel,  and  I  as  has 
raised  ye  from  poverty  to  be  my  own 
sarving  man,  and  gin  ye  the  bist  of  ivery 
thing  as  was  lift,  whin  we'd  all  aetin,  and 
the  pigs  had  done  ?  Say  that  to  my  race, 


42 


LENI    LEOTI;    OR. 


»s  has  been  a  father  to  yees,  ye  ungrateful 
varlet?  I'll  have  ye  horse-whipped  out 
of  town  so  I  will ! ' 

"  '  And  if  ye  does,'  sez  I,  '  I'll  staal 
around  and  rin  off  wid  Kathleen,  as  sure's 
my  name's  Teddy  O'Lagherty,  and  Dennis 
O'Lagherty  was  me  father' — which  wasn't 
so  sure,  d'ye  mind  !  but  the  praast  didn't 
know  that. 

"  This  put  Father  Murphy  to  thinking 
agin,  and  after  a  bit  he  sez,  quite  amiable 
like : 

"  '  And  sure,  ye  wouldn't  be  after  doing 
that,  now,  to  one  as  has  trated  ye  iver 
wid  sich  respict,  Misther  O'Lagherty  ?  " 
sez  he. 

"  Howly  murther !  thinks  I,  what's 
coming  now  !  Ayther  a  mighty  sto-r-m, 
or  sunshine  sure — for  I'd  niver  hearn  the 
praast  spaak  that  way  afore. 

"  '  Misther  O'Lagherty, '  sez  the  praast 
agin,  '  I  love  ye.' 

"  '  Faith  ! '  sez  I,  •'  and  it's  glad  I  am  to 
hear  the  likes,  more  by  raason  ye  niver 
showed  the  faaling,  at  all,  at  all.' 

"  'Will,  ye  think  of  gitting  Kathleen — 
but  it's  all  in  your  eye,'  sez  he.  '  She 
don't  care  for  ye,  me  son  ! ' 

"' That's  a  lie,'  sez  I,  'begging  your 
reve'rince's  pardon  for  spaaing  plain 
Inglish  ! ' 

"Father  Murphy  bit  his  lips,  and  his 
two  eves  looked  jist  like  fire-balls,  they 
did. 

"'Will,'  sez  he,  sez  Father  Murphy, 
'  we'll  jist  let  that  pass  ;  but  she  can  niver 
be  yourn,  Teddy,  by  raason  of  her- being 
bargained  to  another.' 

" '  That  alters  the  case,'  sez  I. 

"  '  It  does,  sez  he.  '  Now  ye  sae,  me 
sun,  ye  can't  make  nothing  by  staying 
lound  here — not  a  bit  of  it — and  as  I  maan 
to  do  the  gintam  oy  yees,  I'd  like  to  be 
knowing  what  ye'd  ax  to  lave  the  counthry, 
and  have  the  money  down  ?  ' 

"  •  And  sure,  where'd  I  go  ? '  sez  I. 

"  '  To  Amirica,'  sez  he. 

"  Will,  I'd  al'ays  heerd  of  Amirica — 


and  what  a  blisscd  counthry  it  was  foi 
liberty,  ladies,  and  poor  folks  —  and  the 
notion  plazed  me  ;  and  besides,  1  knowed 
what  the  praast  said  about  my  niver  gitting 
Cathleen  was  thrue.  So  I  thinks  it  over  a 
wee  bit,  and  sez  : 

"  '  Why,  Father  Murphy,'  scz  I, '  saaing 
it's  you,  and  you're  a  praast  too,  and  a 
gintleman  I  respict,  (  I  had  to  lie  a  little, 
d'ye  mind  !  )  I'll  go  if  ye'll  give  me  dacent 
clothes,  pay  me  passage  out,  and  five 
pounds  to  dhrink  your  rivirence's  health.' 

"  He  wanted  to  baat  me  down,  bul  1 
saan  I  had  him,  and  I  swore  divil  a  step 
would  I  stir  widout  he'd  do  my  axing.  At 
last  sez  he  : 

"  '  Teddy,  I'll  do  it,  if  ye'll  agree  to 
start  right  off,  and  niver  sae  Kathleen 
agin — otherwise  I  won't.' 

"  '  It's  har-r-rd,  so  it  is,'  sez  I ;  but  I  was 
afeard  he'd  back  out  if  I  didn't  accept   i 
soon,  and  so  I  fowld  him,  '  It's  a  bargain,    j 
your  riverince.' 

"  '  Stay  a  minnet,  thin,'  sez  he ;  and  he  I 
rin  into  the  house  and  brought  me  out  five   j 
sovereigns.      '  These'll  pay  ivery  thing, 
sez  he  ;  '  and  so  lave  now,  and  niver  show 
your  dirthy  face  here  agin,  or  I'll  have  you 
up  for  staaling.' 

"  'Troth  ! '  sez  I,  feeling  like  a  lord  wid 
me  hands  on  the  goold,  '  it's  not  throubled 
wid  me  ye'll  be  agin  soon.  The  top  o'  the 
morning  to  your  riverince  ! '  and  so  I  left 
him. 

"  Will,  to  wind  up,  I  com'd  to  Amirica, 
and  spint  all  me  fortune,  and  then  wint  to 
work  and  earned  more  money,  and  thin 
wint  thraveling  to.  sae  what,  1  could  find, 
whin,  blissings  on  me 'luck!  (turning  to 
me  )  I  fill  into  your  honor's  sarvice,  for 
which  good  bit  of  accident  howly  Mary  be 
thanked  !  That's  me  story." 

At  the  moment  Teddy  concluded,  and 
ere  a  single  comment  or  remark  had 
escaped  our  lips,  a  frightful  volley  of  mus 
ket  balls  flew  round  us  like  hail,  and  one 
of  our  party,  springing  up  with  a  yell,  fell 
back  a  corpse. 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST. 


43 


CHAPTER   IX. 

It.'N  FOB    COVER A   REMARKABLE    VOLLEY- 
ASSAIL    THE    FOE WONDERFUL     SUCCESS 

BLOODY      TROPHIES FRIGHT      OF      OUR 

ANIMALS  A       DILEMMA UNEXPECTED 

REINFORCEMENT  ALARM,       ROUT,       AND 

ALMOST      TOTAL      ANNIHILATION      OF      THE 

INDIANS THE    WONDERFUL     HORSEMAN 

AN    OLD     ACQUAINTANCE SPOILS     OF    THE 

VICTORS ANIMALS       RECOVERED ROUND 

THE      CAMP       FIRE MORE      TIDINGS      OF 

PRAIRIE    FLOWER,    ETC.,    ETC. 

"INDIANS,"  was  the  simultaneous  cry 
which  burst  from  our  lips,  as  each  man 
grasped  his  rifle  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

41  Tree,  boys,  "  cried  Black  George,  just 
as  a  series  of  terrific  yells  resounded  on 
all  sides,  and  a  host  of  dusky  figures  were 
«een  bearing  down  upon  us  from  every 
direction  but  one,  which  seemed  providen 
tially  left  open  for  our  safety.  Toward 
this,  the  only  point  of  compass  possible  for 
as  to  escape  without  a  personal  conflict, 
we  fled  precipitately,  and  soon  reached  a 
small  clump  of  trees,  which  afforded  us 
immediate  protection,  leaving  our  dead 
comrade  in  possession  of  the  savages. 
With  a  shout  of  triumph,  a  dozen  of  the 
latter  rushed  up  to  the  unfortunate  trapper, 
und  one  of  the  number  instantly  tore  oft 
his  scalp,  while  several  others  buried  their 
iniv'es  in  his  body,  to  make  sure  of  their 
rictim. 

Meantime  the  rest  of  the  party,  which 
consisted  of  some  thirty  in  all,  made  for 
our  retreat,  uttering  demoniac  yells  of 
barbarous  exultation,  doubtless  fancying 
us  an  easy  prey. 

"  Now,  boys,"  cried  Black  George,  in 
a  stentorian  voice,  "  every  man  pick  a  nig 
ger,  and  give  the skunks  h- !  " 

His  advice  did  not  need  a  repetition  ;  for 
scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth, 
when  crack  went  our  six  rifles,  and,  almost 
miraculous  to  record,  six  of  the  foremost 
tiss.-iilants  rolled  howling  in  the  dust — each 
man,  by  a  friendly  providence,  having 
elected  a  separate  target  with  a  fatal  aim. 

This  was  a  result  as  unlooked  for  by  us, 
•a  alarming  to  our  foes,  who  suddenly 


halted  and  rent  the  air  with  howls  of  rnge 
and  dismay.  While  it  staggered  them,  it 
gave  us  courage,  and  in  the  moment  of 
their  indecision  and  our  triumph,  the  voice 
of  Black  George  was  heard  shouting  the 
inspiring  words  : 

"  Well  done,  boys  !  Foller  me,  and  let 
us  bark  our  pups  and  butcher  at  close 
quarters  ! " 

Saying  this,  he  sprang  forward  with  a 
yell,  a  proceeding  we  all  imitated,  and  be 
fore  the  astonished  savages  were  fully 
aware  what  was  taking  place,  they  found 
us  in  their  midst,  shouting,  shooting,  and 
cutting,  with  a  daring,  activity,  and  ferocity 
they  had  probably  never  seen  equaled. 
So  suddenly  had  we  become  assaifcmts  in 
turn,  and  so  vigorously  did  we  press  upon 
them,  that  they  instantly  wavered,  became 
confused,  and  after  a  slight  resistance,  took 
to  flight,  leaving  four  more  of  their  number 
companions  to  the  first  unfortunate  six. 
Being  all  more  or  less  experienced  in 
Indian  warfare,  we  were  consequently  wise 
enough  not  to  follow  them,  well  knowing 
they  would  return  to  the  charge  as  soon  as 
pressed  into  cover.  Both  of  Black  George's 
companions  had  been  wounded  in  the  melee, 
but  not  dangerously,  and  we  now  congratu 
lated  ourselves,  with  a  triumphant  shout, 
on  our  success. 

"  Reckon  they'll  stay  put  till  we  ken 
butcher  and  raise  these  here  dogs'  hair," 
said  the  old  trapper  ;  and  forthwith  all  set 
to  work,  save  myself,  in  killing  the  wounded 
and  scalping  the  slain.  When  this  bloody 
business  was  over,  Black  George  observed : 
"  This  heyar  coon  wonders  how  the 
niggers  feels  now  !  Maybe  they've  got  a 
notion  in  thar  heads  that  they're  some  in 

a   bar-tight.     Sarved  'em  right,  the 

possums  !  What  busiuess'd  they  to  be 
pitching  into  us,  when  we  was  tellin  stories 
and  troublin  nobody.  Augh  !  " 

"  By  gar  !  I  tink  so,"  added  the  French 
man,  as  he  gave  his  olfactory  organ  an  ex 
tra  dose,  and  his  shoulders  an  unusually 
vigorous  shrug.  "  Ha,  ha,  Monsieur  Blake 
Shorge— you  say  ver  moche  true,  sarve 
him  right,  Certainment,  he  gxt  von  most 
tarn  ver  good  exsallent — vot  you  call  him 
— drubbing,  eh  !  Ha,  ha  !  certainment.  " 
"  Och,  now,  but  didn't  the  blaggarda 
look  a  wee  bit  astonished,  the  spalpeens  !  " 
joined  in  Teddy.  "  Faith  !  but  I  thought 


14 


LEN1     LEOTI:     OK, 


whin  tney  rm,  maybe  as  it  was  a  race  they 
was  rinning  fur  whisky  or  the  likes." 

"Well,"  said  1,  "we  have  been  fortu 
nate  so  far,  that  is  certain  ;  and  now  let  us 
take  care  for  the  future.  Load  quick,  my 
fibnd.s,  and  let  us  bring  our  animals  to 
gether,  or  the  Indians  may  rally  and  dash 
upon  them,  and  leave  us  in  a  bad  condi 
tion." 

"  Right,  boy,"  ciied  Black  George,'  wilh 
a  start  :  "  I'd  forgot.  What  a  old  fool  I 
is  sometimes.  Quirk  !  or  the  skunks  will 
head  us — for  I  knows  'cm  of  old." 

Fortunately  for  us,  the  Indians  had  r.ot 
as  yet  made  a  seizure  of  our  -horses, 
(which,  at  the  lime  of  the  attack,  were 
quietly  feeding  in  the  v;il!ey,  but  now 
running  to  and  fro  and  snuiiing  the  air,) 
thinking,  I  suppose,  that  -victory  for  them 
was  certain,  and  well  knowing  that  an 
Attempt  to  take  the  animals  tirst,  would 
create  an  alarm,  and  perhaps  defeat  their 
design  of  making  us  their  victims.  Our 
possibles,  too,  had  escaped  them,  proba 
bly  from  being  concealed  under  the  brush 
wood  collected  for  our  tire,  and  also  from 
their  bei;ig  put  to  flight  so  suddenly.  All 
these  weie  certainly  matters  for  congratu 
lation  ;  and  hurriedly  removing  our  prop 
erty  from  out  the  tire-light,  I  ordered 
Teddy  and  Pierre  to  guard  it  with  tlu-ir 
lives,  while  the  rest  of  us,  having  reload 
ed  our  rifles,  set  oil  to  collect  our  animals. 

We  had  not  been  any  too  soon  in  this 
matter  ;  for  the  Indians,  having  recovered 
from  their  first  alarm  and  confusion,  we 
now  espied  dodging  from  tree  to  tree,  with 
the  evident  intention  of  getting  between 
us  and  the  beasts,  and  so  capcuring  the 
latter. 

"  Ileyar's  a  fix,"  observed  Black  George, 
making  a  halt.  "  Ef  we  go  fur'ard,  the 
cussed  varmints  will  pick  us  off  and  make- 
meat  on  us ;  and  ef  we  stay  here-a  ways, 
they'll  catch  our  critters  and  leave  us  to 
foot  it.  I'll  be  dog-gone  ef  it  don't  look 
like  a  dilemmer,  as  I  hearn  a  scholard  say 
onc't — that's  a  fact." 

It  was  a  dilemma,  sure  enough,  and 
•bow  to  act  was  a  matter  of  great  moment. 
We  could  not  charge  upon  the  savages  as 
we  had  done  before,  for  they  had  "  treed  " 
in  every  direction,  and,  as  Black  George 
observed,  would  be  sure  to  pick  us  oil' 
singly.  To  lose  our  ca\  allada  was  not  to 


be  thought  of,  for  this  would  in  a  measure 
place  u«  in  their  power.  What  was  to*b« 
done !  Several  propositions  were  made 
by  one  and  another,  but  all  as  soon  reject 
ed  as  being  impracticable'. 

Meantime  the  Indians  were  not  inactive, 
and  though  the  night  was  without  moon, 
we  could  occasionally  perceive  a  iigu?e 
Hitting  before  us  like  a  shadow,  and  the 
circle  they  had  made  around  our  horses 
gradually  narrowing.  •  It  was  a  time  for 
action  of  soice  kind,  ind  yet  we  stood 
irresolute.  At  length  the  old  trappei 
suggested  that  we  should  separate,  and 
each  shift  for  himself  in  the  manner  best 
calculated  to  annoy  our  foes.  This  was 
the  best  plan  as  yet  proposed,  and  was 
in--t;iii!ly  adopted.  We  had  already  be 
gun  to  put  it  in  execution,  when,  to  our 
astonishment,  a  small  body  of  horsemen, 
with  loud  yells,  suddenly  dashed  out  from 
a  distant  thicket,  and  separating,  bore 
down  upon  the  rear  of  our  enemies.  The 
next  moment  we  heard  the  sharp  crack  of 
lire-arms,  mingled  with  the  shouts  of  the 
assailants,  and  yells  of  terror  from  the 
surprised  Indians,  who  instantly  took  to 
flight  in  all  directions.  In  their  confusion, 
a  portion  ran  toward  us,  and  were  received 
by  a  well-directed  volley,  which  wounded 
one,  killed  two,  and  increased  the  alarm 
of  the  survivors,  who  instantly  changed 
their  course  and  fled  toward  the  we.st.eri! 
lulls,  only  to  lind  their  flight  intercepted 
by  an  occasional  horseman. 

"  Don't  know  who  tights  for  us,"  cried 
Black  George,  "and  don't  care  a  kick — 
but  know  they's  some — and  so  let's  arter 

and  discontlumicate  the skunks  all 

we  ken." 

Saying  this,  the  trapper  set  forward  in 
eager  chase  of  the  Hying  foe,  an  example 
we  all  followed,  and  for  the  next  quarter 
of  an  hour  the  valley  presented  an  inde 
scribable  scene  of  confusion  and  ex'-ite- 
ment.  Nothing  of  life  could  be  seen  but 
flying  fugitives,  hotly  pursued  by  a  bitter 
enemy,  whose  only  mercy  was  instant 
death;  and  nothing  heard  but  shrieks, 
yells,  groans,  and  shouts  of  triumph — 
these  from  victors,  those  from  vanquished 
— together  with  the  constant  sharp  crack 
of  tire-arms,  and  the  clashing  of  knives, 
a&  here  and  there  two  met  in  personal  and 
deadly  conflict.  To  use  a  military  phrwe, 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR      WEST. 


the  rout  was  total,  the  enemy  badly  beaten, 
and  the  victorious  skirmishers  only  with 
drew  from  the  field  of  conflict  for  want  of 
a  foe. 

During  the  melee,  we  had  all  become 
mixed  up,  and  but  for  the  distinguishing 
difference  of  color  and  equipments,  we 
might,  owing  to  the  darkness,  have  made 
sad  havoc  with  our  best  friends.  But  the 
new  comers  were  whites,  and  there  was 
no  difficulty  in  distinguishing  between 
them  and  the  savages.  But  who  were 
they,  and  how  came  they  here  so  oppor 
tunely  for  us,  were  enigmas  I  had  no  time 
nor  opportunity  to  solve  till  the  affray  was 
over.  Whoever  they  were,  they  were 
brave  to  a  fault — if  I  may  call  that  cour 
age  a  fault  which  is  reckless  of  self-preset 
vation  —  and  they  fought  like  demons. 
One  of  their  party,  whom  I  took  to  be  j 
leader,  displayed  an  agility,  intrepidity, 
and  fierceness  I  had  never  seen  equaled 
but  once.  Mounted  on  a  fiery  steed, 
which  seemed  to  comprehend  his  slightest 
wish,  he  rushed  among  the  frightened  sav 
ages,  and  twice,  as  he  passed  near  me,  did 
I  observe  him  bend  from  his  saddle,  seize 
the  scalp-lock  of  an  Indian,  stab  him  in 
the  neck,  and  then,  with  a  motion  quick  as 
thought,  cut  around  and  tear  off  the 
bloody  scalp,  without  scarcely  checking 
the  speed  of  his  horse. 

Already  I  fancy  I  see  the  reader  smile, 
and  say  such  feats  are  impossible.  I  do 
not  blame  him  ;  for  had  I  not  seen  them 
myself,  I  should  require  more  than  one 
person's  evidence  to  convince  me  of  their 
possibility,  to  say  nothing  more. 

A  long,  loud  shout  at  last  attested  our 
complete  victory,  when  I,  in  company  with 
my  companions,  approached  our  deliver 
ers,  to  return  our  sincere  thanks  for  their 
timely  aid.  Moving  up  te  the  personage  I 
supposed  to  be  leader,  who  now  sat  quietly 
on  his  horse,  surrounded  by  a  dozen  stal 
wart  figures,  all  mounted,  I  said  :  — 

"Whom  have  I  the  honor  to  thank  for 
tins  invaluable  assistance,  at  a  point  of 
time  so  critical  to  us?  " 

"Why,  as  to  thanks,"  answered  the 
one  addressed,  in  a  voice  that  seemed 
familiar  to  me,  "  I  don't  'spect  thar's  any 
needed ;  but  ef  you  thank  anybody,  thank 
all— -for  evevy  man's  done  his  duty,  and 
nothing  more.'' 


"Mcthinks,  sir,  I  know  your  voice,"  I 
rejoined,  "  but  I  cannot  see  your  fea 
tures." 

"  Well,  it  struck  me  as  I'd  heard  your's 
afore,"  returned  the  intrepid  horseman  ; 
and  he  bent  forward  in  his  saddle,  for  a 
closer  scrutiny  of  rny  person. 

At  this  moment  Black  George  came  up, 
and  casting  one  glance  at  the  speaker,  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Kit  Carson,  or  I'm  a  nigger  !  Reck 
on  you  knows  old  Black  George,  don't 


and    in    an    instant   the    two  were 


shaking  hands  with  the  hearty  familiarity 
of  old  friends. 

"  Kit  Carson ! "  cried  I,  in  surprise. 
"Well,  sir,  I  might  have  known  it  was 
you,  from  your  manner  of  fighting;"  and 
in  turn  I  seized  his  hand  with  one  of  my 
strongest  grips 

"  You  have  a  leetle  the  advantage  of 
me,"  said  Kit,  when  I  had  don,e. 

"  I  presume  you  have  not  forgotten 
Frank  Leighton,  and  the  fight  at  Bitter 
Cottonwood?"  I  replied. 

"Good  heavens!  is  it  indeed  you? 
Why,  I  thought  you  Avar  rubbed  out  thar, 
and  I've  never  heard  anything  of  you 
sence.  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  sir ;  "  and  an 
extra  grip  and  shake  of  the  hand,  con 
vinced  me  he  meant  what  he  said.  "I'll 
have  a  talk  with  you,  by-and-by  ;  but  just 
now  we  mountain  men  hev  got  a  right 
smart  chance  at  scalping — arter  which  I'm 
at  your  service." 

While  most  were  occupied  in  the  bar 
barous  practice  (I  can  never  call  it  by  a 
milder  term,)  of  scalping  the  slain,  I  call 
ed  Teddy,  Pierre,  and  one  or  two  others 
to  my  aid,  and  proceeded  to  collect  and 
picket  the  frightened  animals.  This  was 
no  easy  task,  and  it  was  at  least  an  hour 
before  order  and  quiet  were  again  restored. 
In  the  meantime  the  Indians  were  scalped, 
and  rifled  of  everything  valuabft,  and  then 
left  to  feed  the  wolves,  some  of  which  had 
already  be<mn  their  feast,  and  were  fast 

•i  O 

being  joined  by  others.  Of  the  slain,  we 
•counted  in  all  twenty-three  carcasses ;  so 
that  it  was  evident  but  few,  perhaps  only 
five  or  six,  escaped — and  these,  doubtless*, 
more  or  less  wounded.  Of  my  party,  not 
one  was  injured  in  this  last  att'niy  ;  but 
several  of  the  horsemen  had  received  cuts 
and  stabs,  though  none  of  a  dangerous 


1(3 


L  ti  N  I     L  E  O  T  I ;     OR, 


charaotei.  (Vhen  we  had  all  collected 
around  the  camp-fire,  the  wounded  were 
looked  to,  and  their  wounds  dressed  as 
well  as  cirgumstances  would  allow.  This 
done,  we  proceeded  to  bury  the  mountain 
eer,  who  had  been  killed,  as  the  reader 
will  remember,  at  the  onset.  As  soon  as 
all  these  matters  were  arranged,  we  squat 
ted  down  in  a  circle  round  the  fire,  to  talk 
over  the  events  of  the  last  two  hours. 

I  now  had  an  opportunity  of  conversing 
with  Carson,  which  I  eagerly  embraced. 
I  informed  him,  in  brief,  of  all  that  had 
occurred  since  we  last  met,  and  listened 
to  a  hasty  recital  of  his  own  adventures, 
the  'principal  part  of  which  referred  to 
Fremont's  first  expedition,  and  is  already 
before  the  public.  He  said.  th;?t  after 
parting  with  Fremont,  he  had  been  engaged 
to  conduct  a  party  to  California,  and  was 
on  his  return  to  St.  Louis,  by  way  of 
Uintah  Fort,  St.  V rains,  and  Fort  Lararnie, 
when,  stopping  at  the  first  mentioned,  he 
found  the  present  party  of  adventurers 
anxious  to  obtain  a  guide  to  Taos,  and 
thence  to  Santa  Fe,  and  that  they  had 
induced  him  to  accompany  them  as  far  as 
Taos.  He  .said  that  they  had  been  on  our 
trail  for  some  time,  but  had  not  come  m 
sight  of  us,  until  the  present  evening, 
when,  camping  just  the  other  side  of  one 
of  the  surrounding  hills,  he,  in  a  short 
ramble,  had  accidentally  discovered  our 
camp-fire,  and  had  determined  on  joining 
us  in  the  morning.  The  attack  on  us  by 
the  Indians  had  been  heard,  and  as  soon 
as  possible,  thereafter,  the  whole  party  had 
come  to  our  aid,  with  what  result  the 
reader  knows. 

He  further  added,  it  was  rumored  that 
Fremont  had  begun  his  second  expedition, 
and  was  even  now  on  his  route  westward  by 
way  of  Bent's  Fort — that  he  was  anxious 
to  join  him — and  that  if  an  arrangement 
could  be  '(effected  to  do  without  him,  he 
would  in  the  morning  cross  over  to  the 
valley  of  the  Arkansas,  and  take  a  direct 
course  tor  Bent's. 

In  answer  to  my  inquiries  concerning 
Prairie  Flower  and  her  tribe,  he  said  he 
had  not  met  with  any  of  them  since  the 
battle  of  Bitter  Cottonwood  ;  but  that  he 
had  heard  of  their  being  in  this  part  of  the 
country  quite  recently,  and  was  inclined 
to  believe  them  somewhere  in  the  neigh 


borhood  of  Taos  at  the  present  time. 
With  regard  to  my  friend,  he  expressed 
much  sorrow  for  his  loss,  but  could  give 
me  no  information  concerning  him. 

I  was  now  more  than  ever  anxious  to 
find  the  Mysterious-  Tribe  ;  for  something 
whispered  me  ilia  Prairie  Flower  had 
!  been  in  search  of  my  friend — or  at  least 
was  now  with  her  tribe  on  that  errand — 
or,  if  neither  of  these  surmises  should 
prove  correct,  I  could  perhaps  prevail  upon 
•:hem  to  assist  me.  At  all  events,  I  deter 
mined  on  finding  them  as  soon  as  possible, 
and  accordingly  resolved  to  start  at  day 
light,  and  push  through  to  Taos  with  all 
haste. 

Busy  thoughts  prevented  me  from  sleep 
ing  that  eventful  night,  and  at  the  first 
tinge  of  morning  light  I  awoke  mv  com 
panions  for  the  journey.  As  we  had  all 
one  destination,  the  party  of  Carson  con 
sented  to  part  with  him  and  join  mine; 
and  shaking  my  hand,  with  a  hearty  prayer 
for  my  success,  he  set  off  alone  over  the 
mountains,  while  we  continued  down  the 
valley  of  the  Rio  Grande. 


CHAPTER   X. 

ARRIVE    AT    TAOS DISAPPOINTMENT A  SIK 

GULAR      CHARACTER JOYFUL      TIDINGS— 

SOUTHWARD      BOUND — -SANTA     FE ADDI 
TIONAL    NEWS ON    THE    RIGHT    COURSE— 

PERPLEXITY ALL   RIGHT TRIUMPHANT 

SUCCESS RETURN   TO  THE  NORTH. 

As  our  party  was  now  quite  formidable, 
we  had  no  fears  of  again  being  attacked, 
so  long  as  we  remained  together.  On  the 
fourth  day  from  quitting  the  valley  de 
scribed  in  the  previous  chapter,  we  entered 
the  small  village  of  Taos.  Here  I  found 
a  melange  of  all  nations  and  colors,  con 
sisting  of  trappers,  hunters,  traders,  ad 
venturers,  &c. 

Mingling  with  all  classes,  I  at  once 
proceeded  to  make  inquiries  regarding  the 
present  whereabouts  of  the  Great  Medi 
cine  Tribe,  and  also  if  any  had  seen  or 
heard  of  a  certain  young  man  (giving  a 


DtENTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST 


47 


fall  description  of  Huntly  )  being  taken 
prisoner  by  the  Indians  or  Mexicans.  To 
my  first  inquiry,  I  received  from  several 
the  answer,  that  a  singular  tribe  of  Indians, 
among  whom  was  a  beautiful  female,  had 
been  seen  in  the  vicinity  within  a  few 
weeks ;  but  where  they  now  were,  or  in 
what  direction,  none  could  tell.  As  to  the 
latter,  each  replied  with  a  shake  of  the 
head,  that  he  could  tell  me  nothing.  It 
was  not  an  uncommon  thing,  they  informed 
me,  for  a  white  man — an  adventurer — to 
he  taken,  robbed,  held  for  ransom,  knocked 
on  the  head,  or  sold  into  slavery  ;  but  no 
one  remembered  hearing  of,  or  seeing  such 
as  I  had  described. 

To  me  this  news  produced  great  disap 
pointment  ;  for,  from  some  cause  which  I 
cannot  explain,  I  had  been  sanguine  of 
getting  information  of  Huntly  so  soon  as 
I  should  arrive  at  Taos.  Here,  then,  was 
a  complete  overthrow  of  my  most  ardent 
hopes  !  ahd  I  now  felt  keenly  the  sandiness 
of  the  foundation  on  which  I  had  reared 
my  expectations.  I  might  pass  a  long  life 
in  a  wearisome  and  dangerous  search,  and 
be  no  wiser  of  Huntly's  fate  at  last.  There 
was  still  a  faint  hope  that  Prairie  Flower, 
who  I  doubted  not  had  gone  south  with 
her  tribe  for  this  purpose,  had  gained 
some  information  of  him  ;  and  at  once  I 
determined  to  hunt  her  out,  with  the  addi 
tional  resolve,  that  should  my  surmises 
prove  correct,  and  she  had  failed  also,  to 
net  out  on  my  return  forthwith.  But  where 
should  I  begin  to  look  for  her  was  the 
next  question.  She  might  be  as  difficult 
to  find  as  Huntly,  and  there  was  no  cer 
tainty  of  my  ever  seeing  either  again. 

The  day  following  my  a  -ival  in  Taos,  I 
was  passing  along  one  of  the  streets,  pon 
dering  upon  these  matters,  when  I  chanced 
to  meet  an  old  mountaineer,  whom  I  did 
not  remember  having  seen  before.  Deter 
mined  to  leave  no  stone  unturned,  I 
accosted  Inm  with  the  same  inquiry  I  had 
made  of  the  others  He  stopped,  looked 
at  m<>  attentively  a  moment,  as  if  to  com 
prehend  my  questions,  and  then  in  a 
to  using,  halt'  soliloquizing  manner,  replied  : 

"  'Bout  the  Injins,  don't  know — think 
I've  seed  such — won't  be  sarlin — don't 
like  to  be  sarlin  when  I  aint.  Yes  !•  think 
1  hev  seed  'em — yes,  know  I  hev — but  it 
war  two  year  ago,  and  away  up  north  a 


—  of  a  ways  :  Fact.  'Bout  the  other 
chap,  don't  know  ; — yes— -no— stop — let 
me  see — y-e-s,  I  reckon — aint  sartin— 
what  was  he  like?" 

Here  I  proceeded  to  give  a  description 
of  my  friend,  with  what  conflicting  feelings 
of  hope  and  fear  I  leave  the  reside!  to 
imagine.  In  fact,  my  voice  became  so 
tremulous,  that  several  times  I  was  forced 
to  stop  and  put  my  hand  to  my  throat  to 
prevent,  as  it  were,  my  heart  from  strang 
ling  me. 

"  Git  cool,  and  jest  say  that  thar  over 
agin,"  rejoined  the  other,  when  at  length 
I  tremblingly  paused  for  his  answer. 

I  repeated  it  twice,  before  he  seemed 
satisfied. 

"  Now,"  says  he,  "  I'll  think — let  me 
see  ! "  and  he  deliberately  proceeded  to 
take  up  each  point  of  my  description,  and 
apply  it  to  some  person  he  had  seen, 
making  his  own  comments  as  he  went 
along,  "  Slim  and  graceful-  -let  me  see  ! 
— yes — no — ye-a-s — rather  reckon  he  was 
— know  it — fact.  '  'Bout  twenty-three — 
stop  —  let  me  think!  —  yes  —  reckon  he 
might  be — know  he  was — sartin.  Good 
face  —  han'some  featurs — stop — a — y-e-s 
— know  it — settled." 

Thus  he  went  on  until  I  found  my  pa 
tience  completely  exhausted,  and  was  about 
to  interrupt  him,  when  he  suddenly  ex 
claimed  : 

"Seen  him,  stranger — sartin  as  life — 
know  I  hev." 

"Where?  where?"  cried  I,  breath 
lessly,  grasping  his  hand. 

"  San  Dorningo." 

"When?" 

"  'Bout  a  year  ago." 

"  God  be  thanked  !     You  are  sure  ?  " 

"  Sartin,  or  I'd  never  said  it." 

"  Well,  well — what  became  of  him  ?  " 

"  It's  more'n  I  ken  say — spect  he  war 

made  a  slave.  A old  Greaser  had 

him,  and  wanted  to  sell  or  git  him  ran 
somed.  He  axed  too  high,  and  nobody 
traded.  I  pitied  the  poor  feller,  but  I 
hadn't  no  money,  and  thar  warn't  no  Yan 
kees  thar  then  to  help  me  out  in  takin 
him.  Old  Greaser  went  sothe  ;  -ind  some 
I  axed  shuk  thar  heads,  and  said  that 
that  old  scamp  war  a  robber  chiel,  and 
had  lots  o'  help  close  by.  All  1  know, 
stnm.wnr  " 


48 


LEN1     LEOTI;     OR. 


"  Lut  do  you  think  lie  is  alive  now  ?  " 

"Can't  say,  ye  see,  'cause  don't  know. 
Never  sav  what  don*  know.  Any  thing- 
more  to  ax,  stranger?" 

"  Nothing  that  you  ran  answer,"  I  re 
plied  ;  and  thanking  him  kindly  for  his  in 
formation,  I  placed  a  gold  coin  in  his  hand, 
and  hurriedly  left  him  to  seek  out  my  com 
panions —  my  spirits,  so  lately  depressed, 
now  buoyant  and  bounding. 

The  party  which  had  joined  mine  at  the 
valley,  had  not  yet  quitted  Taos  ;  and  call 
ing  all  together,  I  preceded  to  lay  before 
them  mv  joyful  intelligence.  When  I  had 
done,  Black  George  gave  a  shout,  Teddy 
a  whoop,  Pierre  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  doubled  his  dose  of  snuff,  and  every 
one  expressed  his  delight  in  his  own  pecu 
liar  way.  The  Rovers — so  our  new  com 
panions  termed  themselves — were  nearly 
all  young  men  from  the  States,  who  had 
come  west  more  for  adventure  than  specu 
lation  ;  and  as  I  had  become  a  favorite 
with  tin-in  in  the  short  time  of  our  ac- 
qaintance,  they  at  once  volunteered  me 
their  assistance,  an  offer  1  accepted  with 
tears  of  gratitude. 

Ordering  out  our  animals,  we  mounted 
and  set  forward  immediately,  and,  although 
the  day  was  partly  advanced,  succeded  in 
reaching  Santa  Cruz  about  nightfall.  By 
noon  of  the  next  day  we  rode  into  Santa 
Fe — a  place  of  much  importance  and  no 
toriety,  from  bein.g  centrally  located  on 
the  great  caravan  route  from  Missouri  to 
Southern  California.  At  the  time  of  which 
I  write,  Santa  Fe  contained  some  four  or 
five  thousand  inhabitants,  and  was  the  em 
porium  of  the  northern  trade  between  New 
Mexico  and  Missouri.  However,  ic  was 
""anything  but  an  agreeable  place — its  in 
habitants  being  mostly  made  up  of  the  off 
scouring*  of  the  earth — without  religion, 
morality,  or  any  other  noble  quality.  To 
gamble",  steal,  rob  and  murder  were  among 
the  reiined  amusements  of  the  most  wor 
thy  set.  To  make  matters  still  worse, 
there  had  recently  been  some  difficulty  be 
tween  the  Mexicans  and  the  citizens  of 
the  United  States,  and  on  both  sides  ex 
isted  a  hitter  hostility,  which  was  produc 
tive  of  the  most  violent  crimes.  It  was 
dangerous  for  any  one  to  traverse  the 
streets  alone,  particularly  after  nightfall  ; 
for  at  every  corner  he  turned,  he  knew 


himself  ir  danger  cf  assassination.     Tt. 
Indians    br-o    generally   sided    with    tK« 
Mexicans,  pro1  Booked  upon  all  Yankees  *•*  . 
their  worst  crstnnes. 

Such  was  th<?  rtate  of  affairs  at  Santa 
Fe  on  my  arrival-  snd  the  same  inimical 
feeling,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  pre 
vailed  in  all  the  adnic^nt  towns.  As  my 
self  and  party  hail  ro  desire  to  quarrel 
with  any  one,  we  took  care  to  be  civil,  al 
ways  together,  well  armed,  and  to  mind 
our  own  business  on  ail  occasions  ;  and 
in  consequence  we  fortunately  2scapec 
without  molestation. 

Making  several  inquiries  in  Santa  Fe, 
and  gaining  nothing  further  of  Huntly  or 
the  Mysterious  Tribe,  we  ^mrsued  oui 
course  southward  through  Cincga  to  San 
Domingo. 

Here  the  story  of  the  old  trapper  was 
so  far  confirmed,  that  several  persons  re 
membered  having  seen  the  notorious 
robber,  Gonzalez,  in  possession  of  a  hand 
some  young  prisoner,  whom  he  was  anx 
ious  to  dispose  of,  declaring  he  could  no* 
lind  not  it  in  his  heart  to  kill  him,  and  could 
not  afford  to  part  with  him  without  recom 
pense  ;  that  no  one  there  being  disposed  to 
purchase  him,  he  had  gone  farther  south  ; 
but  what  had  since  become  of  him  none 
could  afford  me  any  information.  In  an 
swer  to  my  inquiry  concerning  Prairie 
Flower,  I  learned  that  some  time  ago  she 
had  been  seen  in  this  vicinity  with  her 
tribe — that  she  had  made  inquiries  simi 
lar  to  mine,  and  that  all  had  departed 
southward. 

This  news  almost  made  me  frantic  with 
joy.  Huntly,  I  argued,  was  living.  Prai 
rie  Flower,  like  some  kind  angel,  had  gone 
to  his  rescue  ;  and  it  might  be,  that  even 
now  he  was  free  and  enjoying  her  sweet 
companionship.  The  joyful  thought,  as  I 
saiJ  but  now,  nearly  drove  me  mad  with 
excitement;  and  all  my  olden  hopes  were 
not  only  revived,  but  increased  by  faith  tc- 
certainties. 

Hurrying  forward  to  San  Bernilla  on 
the  Rio  Grande,  I  heard  nearly  the  same 
tale  as  at  San  Domingo ;  and  following 
down  the  river  to  Torreon,  listened  to  its 
repetition — and  at  Valencia,  Nutrias,  and 
Alamiila  likewise.  At  Valverde,  the  next 
village  below  the  last  mentioned,  1  could 
U'ain  no  intelligence  what*  ^or.  This  le.d 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE    FAR    WEST 


40 


m«=  to  think  Gonzalez  had  disposed  of  his 
prisoner  between  the  two  villages  —  or, 
what  was  just  as  probable,  had  taken  an 
other  course.  For  what  I  knew,  he  might 
have  crossed  the  Rio  Grande  and  struck 
off  into  the  Sierra  de  los  Mimbres — a 
mountain  chain  only  a  few  miles  to  the 
\vt:st  of  us,  whose  lofty,  snow-covered 
peaks  rose  heavenward  to  a  vast  hight, 
and  had  been  distinctly  visible  for  several 
days.  If  he  had  taken  this  direction,  the 
chances  of  tracing  him  successfully  ap 
peared  much  against  us.  It  was  equally 
as  probable,  too,  he  had  gone  eastward — 
perhaps  to  Tabira — a  small  village  some 
seventy  miles  distant.  But  which  course 
should  we  take  ?  Consulting  my  friends, 
we  at  length  resolved  to  retrace  our  steps 
to  Alamilla,  make  inquiries  of  all  we  might 
me  >f  on  the  way,  and  then,  if  we  could 
gain  no  satisfactory  information,  to  strike 
out  for  Tabira  on  a  venture. 

This  matter  settled,  we  at  once  turned 
back,  but  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  we 
met  a  couple  of  Mexican  hunters.  As  I 
understood  a  smattering  of  Spanish,  I  at 
once  addressed  them,  and,  in  course  of  con 
versation,  gained  the  joyful  tidings,  that 
a  prisoner,  such  as  I  described,  had  been 
purchased  by  a  Mexican,  living  not  more 
than  three  miles  distant,  and  that  in  all 
probability  we  should  find  him  there  now. 
The  path  to  his  residence  having  been 
pointed  out,  I  rewarded  each  of  my  in 
formants  with  a  gold  coin,  and  then  driv 
ing  the  spurs  into  our  horses,  in  less  than 
half  an  hour  we  reined  them  in  before  a 
small  hacienda,  much  to  the  terror  of  the 
inmates,  who  believed  we  had  come  to  rob 
and  murder  them.  Assuring  the  proprie 
tor,  a  rather  prepossessing  Mexican,  that 
ia  case  he  gave  us  truthful  answers  no 
harm  should  be  done  him — but  that,  being 
partially  informed  already,  the  slightest 
prevarication  would  cost  him  his  tongue 
and  ears,  if  not  his  head — 1  proceeded  to 
question  him. 

Thus  forewarned,  and  much  in  fear  of 
il»e  execution  of  the  threat,  he  gave 
straight- forward  replies,  to  the  effect  that 
nore  than  a  year  ago  Gonzalez  had  paid 
Lira  H  visit,  and  offered  him  an  American 
;t.  H  small  price,  declaring  that  if  he  did 
not  purchase,  he  would  knock  the  prisoner 
«'<t  the  head  without  more  ado,  as  he  had 


cost  him  more  time  than  he  was  worth ; 
that  at  first,  he  (the  proprietor  of  the  ha 
cienda)  had  refused  to  buy,  having  as  many 
slaves  as  he  cared  about ;  but  that  some 
thing  in  the  young  man's  appearance,  and 
the  appeal  he  made  with  his  eye,  had 
touched  his  feelings,  and  the  bargain  had 
at  length  been  struck.  He  farther  stated, 
that  the  prisoner  had  not  been  treated  like 
the  rest  of  his  slaves,  but  with  more  re 
spect,  and  had  behaved  himself  like  a  gen 
tleman  and  won  his  confidence.  A  short 
time  ago,  he  continued,  a  small  tribe  of 
Indians  had  called  upon  him,  and  offered  a 
ransom  for  the  prisoner,  stating  he  was  an 
old  acquaintance  ;  that  he  had  accepted 
the  offer,  and  the  prisoner  had  departed 
with  them  toward  the  north,  in  fine  spirits. 

This  was  the  substance  of  the  informa- 
lion  I  gathered  here  :  but  it  was  enough 
to  intoxicate  me  with  joy,  and  was  re 
ceived  by  the  rest  of  the  party  with  three 
hearty  cheers,  much  to  the  astonishment  of 
the  old  Mexican,  who  did  not  comprehend 
what  was  meant. 

The  prisoner  was  Huntly — there  wa» 
no  doubt  of  that — and  the  Great  Medicine 
was  the  Indian  tribe  which  had  set  him 
free.  The  next  thing  was  to  go  in  quest 
of  them.  They  had  gone  toward  the 
north,  and  had  had  some  time  the  start  of 
us.  It  might  be  difficult  to  find  them — 
but  nothing,  I  fancied,  in  comparison  with 
the  task  I  had  first  undertaken  of  tracing 
out  my  friend.  The  Rovers  agreed  to  ac 
company  me  as  far  as  Santa  Cruz,  when, 
after  having  seen  me  so  far  safe,  they 
designed  returning  to  Santa  Fe. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  detail  each 
day's  jouiney.  Suffice,  that  in  due  time 
we  arrived  at  Santa  Cruz,  where  I  parted 
from  the  Rovers,  with  many  expressions 
of  gratitude  on  my  part,  and  heart-felt 
wishes  for  my  success  on  theirs.  My  party 
was  thus  reduced  to  six  ;  and  as  two  of 
the  number  preferred  remaining  here  to 
going  north  immediately,  I  settled  with 
them  at  once,  uill  retaining  Tiddy,  Pierre, 
and  Black  George. 

With  these  I  again  set  forward  rapidly, 
making  inquiries  of  all  I  met.  For  two 
or  three  days  I  could  get  no  tidings  of  the 
Mysterious  Tribe,  and  I  began  to  have 
doubts  of  being  on  the  right  coursft. 
Fortunately,  before  we  had  decided  on 


50 


LENI     LEOTI;    OR. 


changing  our  direction,  we  met  a  party  of 
mountaineers,  who  informed  us  that  a  few 
weeks  before  they  had  seen  a  small  tribe 
oi  friendly  Indians,  somewhere  between 
the  Spanish  Peaks  and  Pueblo,  among 
whom  were  a  white  man  and  a  beautiful 
female  half-breed — that  they  were  moving 
very  leisurely  toward  the  north — and  that 
in  nil  probability  they  were  now  encamped 
somewhere  in  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Aikansas. 

Elated  with  the  most  extravagant  anti 
cipations  of  soon  realizing  our  sanguine 
hopes,  we  again  pressed  forward  for  two 
or  three  days,  and  leaving  the  lofty  Span 
ish  Peaks  to  our  right,  tracing  up  the  head 
waters  of  the  Rio  Mora,  we  struck  off  over 
the  Green  Mountains  and  camped  at  last 
in  the  far-famed  valley  of  the  Arkansas, 
within  full  view  of  the  eternal  snow- 
crowned  Pike's  Peak. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

MORE    CHEERING    NEWS A    FRANTIC    RIDE 

IN  THE  EMBRACE    OF    MY  FRIEND EFFECT 

OF     THE     MEETING SAD      TIDINGS      FOR 

HUNTLY DEEP    EMOTION STORY     OF    HIS 

CAPTIVITY    AND     RELEASE HIS     SECOND 

MEETING     WITH     PRAIRIE     FLOWER OLD 

FEELINGS  RENEWED LOVE,  ETC. 

FOR  two  days  after  reaching  the  valley, 
our  search  proved  fruitless,  and  the  reader 
can  better  imagine  my  feelings  than  I  can 
describe  them.  My  anxiety  to  see  my 
long-lost  friend  was  so  great,  that  I  could 
not  rest  at  night,  and  barely  devour  enough 
food  to  support  nature.  A  consultation 
had  resulted  in  shaping  our  course  up  the 
river,  and  on  the  third  day  we  had  the  un 
bounded  delight  to  meet  with  a  couple  of 
trappers,  who  informed  us  they  had  seen 
the  Great  Medicine  Tribe  only  two  days 
before,  and  that  they  were  then  camped 
on  a  small  creek,  in  a  lovely  valley,  at  the 
base  of  the  southwestern  mountain  chain, 
surrounding  what  is  known  as  the  South 
Park,  not  more  than  sixty  or  seventy  miles 
distant.  Never  can  I  forget  the  feelings  I 
experienced,  nor  the  wild,  prolonged,  and 
deafening  cheers  which  resounded  at  this 


announcement.  Each  of  my  compar?on» 
seemed  frantic  with  joy  ;  and  as  for  my 
self,  I  could  have  clasped  the  informant, 
rough  and  half  civilized  as  tl  ey  weie,  to 
my  beating  heart.  • 

Becoming  at  last  a  little  more  tranquil, 
we  managed  to  impress  upon  ourselves  a 
brief  description  of  the  route  to  be  taksn, 
and  then  set  forward  with  the  wilJm-ss  oi 
madmen  just  loosened  from  an  insane 
asylum.  On,  on  we  dashed,,  over  plain 
heath  and  ridges,  through  thickets  and 
streams,  till  the  blowing  and  reeling  of  our 
animals  warned  us  we  must  be  more 
prudent,  or  their  lives,  at  least,  would  be 
the  penalty  of  our  rashness. 

Throughout  that  day,  nothing  was 
thought  of,  nothing  talked  of,  but  our  for 
tunate  adventure,  and  the  speedy  prospect 
of  gaining  what  we  sought.  Time,  dis 
tance,  everything  was  overlooked ;  and 
when  the  sun  went  down,  it  appeared  to  us 
the  day  had  been  by  half  the  shortest  of 
the  season.  But  very  different  was  it  with 
our  horses,  which  were  so  exhausted  from 
hard  riding,  that  serious  fears  were  enter 
tained  lest  we  had  ruined  them.  But  a 
thorough  rubbing  down,  and  an  hour  or  two 
of  rest  revived  them  ;  and  we  at  last  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  them  crop  the 
plentiful  blade  with  their  wonted  gusto. 

I  slept  none  that  night :  in  fact  did  not 
lie  down  ;  but  most  of  the  time  paced  the 
earth  to  and  fro  before  the  fire-light,  anx 
iously  praying  for  the  dawn,  to  resume 
our  journey.  •  My  companions,  however, 
slept  soundly  ;  for  they  had  far  less  to 
think  of  than  I,  and  moreover  were  sorelj 
fatigued. 

At  the  first  blush  of  morning  I  roused 

them,  and  again  mounting  we  set  forward. 

As  both  Pierre  and  Black  George  knew  the 

!  country  well,  we  lost  no  time  by  going  out 

of  the  way,  but  took  the  nearest  and  safest 

course  to  the  point  described.     A  ride  oi 

!  four  hours  brought  us  to  the  brow  of  a 

'hill,  looking  down  upon  a  fertile  valley, 

i  where,   joy    inexpressible !    we    beV.eld   a 

!  village  of  temporary  lodges,  and  a  few  In- 

J  dians,    whom    I    instantly    recognized    a* 

j  belonging  to  the  anxiously-sought  tribe. 

"Hurray  !  we've  got  'em — I'll  be  iojf- 
gone  ef  we  haint !  "  cried  Black  Gt^ige 
"  Hurray  for  us,  beavers,  sez  I !  and  t 
quart  on  the  feller  as  is  last  in  ! " 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST.  11 

Uttering  yell  after  yell,  as  wild  as  those  'portray.  We  had  literally  been  dead  tc 
ol  savages,  we  spurred  down  the  hill  with  each  other — we  who  had  loved  from  child- 
reckless  velocity,  each  one  striving  to  lead  hood  with  that  ardent  love  which  cements 
the  rest  and  be  first  to  reach  the  goal  of  two  souls  in  one — and  now  we  had  come 
our  present  desires.  Had  the  tribe  in  to  life,  as  it  were,  to  feel  more  .ntensely 
question  not  been  peaceably  inclined,  this  our  friendship  for  the  long  separation, 
proceeding  would  have  been  d  angerous  in  The  excess  of  joy  had  nearly  made  us 
the  extreme,  and  a  shower  of  rifle  balls  frantic,  and  taken  away  the  power  of 
might  have  changed  our  joyous  sh&uts  to  speech.  At  last  we  became  more  tranquil, 
cues  of  pain  and  lamentation,  or  put  us  when  our  friends  who  had  been  present, 
beyond  the  pale  of  mortality.  Our  rapid  but  almost  unnoticed,  withdrew  and  left 
and  tumultuous  approach  alarmed  our  us  to  ourselves. 

friends,   and   men,   women,   and   children  j      "  And  now,  Frank,"  said  Huntly,  look- 
came  running  out  of  their  huts,  with  fear   ing  me  earnestly  in  the  face,  his  eyes  still 
depicted  on  their  faces.    Among  them  were  :  dimmed   with   tears,  ''tell  me  the  newa. 
two  figures  that  fixed  my  attention  ;  and   Have  you  been  home  ?  " 
from    that    moment    I    saw    nothing   but  |      "  I  have  not." 

Charles   Huntly  and   Leni  Leoti,  till    my  j      "Ah!  then  I  suppose  you  know  nothing 
gallant  beast  stood  panting  in  the  center  ;  of  our  friends  !  " 
of  the.  crowd.  "  More  than  you  imagine,"  and  I  turned 

"  Charles  ! "  I  exclaimed,  as  I  leaped  away  my  head,  and  sighed  at  the  thought 
from  my  steed,  my  brain  fairly  reeling  with  :  of  the  mournful  intelligence  I  was  about 
intense  emotion  ;  and  staggering  up  to  J  to  communicate. 

where  he  stood,  bewildered  and  confused,  I      "  Indeed  !  "   said   Huntly.     "  But  why 
I  threw  ray   arms  around   his  neck  and   do  you  avert  your  face  ?     Has — has  any- 


swooned  in  his  embrace. 

When  consciousness  again  returned,  I 
found  myself  lying  on  a  mat  in  a  small 
cabin,  hastily  constructed  of  sticks  and 
pkins,  and  my  friend  standing  by  me, 


thing  happened  ?" 

"  Prepare  yourself  for  the  worst,  dear 
Charles  !  "  I  said,  in  a  tremulous  tone. 

"  For  the  worst?"  he  repeated.  "Great 
Heaven  !  what  has  happened  ?  Speak  ! 


chafing  my  temples,  dashing  cold  water  in  j  quick!  tell  me!  for  suspense  at  such  times 
my  face,  and  entreating  me  in  the  most  is  hard  to  be  borne  ;  and  our  imagination, 


piteous  tones  to  arouse  and  speak  to  him. 
There  were  others  around,  but  I  heeded 
them  not.  I  had  neither  ears,  nor  eyes, 
for  any  but  my  friend.  My  first  glance 


running  wild  with  conjecture,  tortures  us, 
it  may  be,  beyond  the  reality." 
"In  this  case  I  think  not." 
"  Then  speak  what  you  know  —  in  Hea- 

showcd  me  he  was  altered,  but  not  more  j  ven's  name,  speak!" 
than  I  had  expected  to  find  him.     His  form       «'  Promise  me  to  be  calm  ?  " 
was  somewhat  wasted,  and  his  pale  features  !      "  I  will  do  my  best,"  replied  my  friend, 
displayed  here  and  there  a  line  of  grief  eagerly,  with   a  look  of  alarm,  while  his 

frame  fairly  trembled  with  excitement,  and 
his  forehead  became  damp  with  cold  per 
spiration. 

"  Your  father,  dear  Charles  !  "  I  began 
"  Well,  well,  Frank — what  of  him  ?  " 
"  Is — is — no  more.     The  sod  has  twice 
been  green  above  him." 

Merciful  God  !'?  he  exclaimed,  throw- 


and  suffering  which  1  had  never  before  seen., 

"Frank,"  he  cried,  "for  God's  sake 
look  up,  and  speak  to  me  ! " 

"  Charles  !  "  I  gasped. 

••Ha!  1  hear  it  again  —  that  dearly 
'loved  voice  !  "  and  burying  his  head  upon 
my  breast  he  wept  aloud. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  had  completely  re 


covered  from  my  swoon  ;  but  it  was  a  long  ing  his  hands  aloft,  with  a  look  of  ao-ony  1 

tl i_-^ *  A  1.       _  i«  It  i*l*i*  .?_* 


time  before  either  of  us  could  master  his 
emotion  sufficient  TO  hold  conversation. 
We  looked  at  each  other,  pressed  each 
oilier  by  the  hand,  mingled  our  tears  to 
gether,  and  fflt,  in  this  strange  meeting, 


shall  never  forget ;  then  covering  his  face 
with  them,  he  groaned  as  one  in  the  throe* 
of  death. 

For  some  time  1  did  not   disturb  him. 
thinking  it  best  to  let  his  first  grief  tako  it* 


no  pen   can   describe,  no  language  i  course  in  silence.     At  length  I  said  : 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 
Come,  my  dear  friend,  rouse  thce,  and  I      "  Then  where  did  you  see  them,  ami 


be  a  man  !  Do  not  give  too  much  sway 
to  your  sorrow  !  Remember,  that  in  this 
world  we  all  have  to  die  —  that  we  are 
doomed  by  the  immutable  laws  of  nature 
and  the  decrees  of  an  over-ruling  God,  to 
part  from  those  we  most  dearly  love  !  But 
it  is  only  tor  a  time.  God  is  wise,  and 
good,  and  does  all  things  for  the  best;  and 
it  is  only  a  short  time  at  the  longest,  ere 
we  in  turn  shall  depart  to  join  them  in  a 
life  beyond  the  reach  of  death.  Cheer 
up,  dear  Charles  !  and  look  upon  your 
father  as  one  who  has  done  with  the  cares 
and  perplexities  of  life,  and  made  a  happy 
change.  I  know  how  dearly  you  loved 
him  —  I  know  the  trial  to  give  him  up  is 
most  painful  —  and  from  my  very  soul  I 
sympathize  with  you  in  your  affliction. 
But,  my  dear  friend^,  we  have  other  duties. 
than  to  wail  the  dead  ;  for  the  living  de 
mand  our  attention  ;  and  you  have  friends 
still  left  you,  equally  near  and  dear,  who 
stand  in  need  of  your  most  iron  energies.'1 
"  Alas  !  "  he  groaned,  his  face  still  hid 
in  his  hands  —  "  dead  !  dead  !  dead  !  —  and 
I  —  his  only  son  —  far,  far  away!"  He 
paused,  and  trembled  violently  for  a  few 
moments,  and  his  breath  came  quick  and 
hard.  "  But  you  are  right,  dear  Frank," 
he  said,  at  length,  slowly  raising  his  face, 
now  sadly  altered.  "  You  are  right,  my 
friend  !  We  know  such  things  must,  do, 
and  will  take  place  ;  and  we  should,  to 
what  extent  we  can,  be  philosophers  all, 


where  are  they  now  ? 

"  I  will  answer  your  last  question  Grsl. 
They  are  now  in  Oregon  City." 

He    yave   me   a    deep,    searching   look, 


-•up, 


such  as  one  would  bestow  upon  a  person 
whose  sanity  he  had  just  begun  to  question. 
"  I  do  not  wonder  you  look  surprised," 
I  added  :  "  but  listen  ere  you  doubt ;  "  ar.d 
I  proceeded  to  narrate,  as  briefly  as  1 
could,  how  I  had  met  them  near  the  South 
Pass  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  xmder 
what,  singular  circumstances  ;  how  I  had 
soon  learned  of  their  misfortunes,  both  in 
the  loss  of  their  dearest  friend  and  their 
property,  (which  latter  seemed  to  affect 
Charles  less  than  I  had  expected  ;)  how 
I  had  there  met  the  Unknown,  been  warned 
of  danger  by  Prairie  Flower,  and  what 
followed;  how  I  had  subsequently  accom 
panied  the  party  to  Oregon  ;  how  I  had 
proposed  to  Lilian,  been  accepted,  and  on 
what  conditions  ;  and  how  I  had  at  last 
been  led  to  set  oQ'  in  search  of  my  dearest 
friend,  and  what  had  happened  on  tho 
journey.  In  short,  I  gave  him  condensed 
particulars  of  all  that  had  occurred  sinca 
we  parted,  not  forgetting  my  night  search 
for  him,  and  the  effect  of  his  loss  upon  mi? 
at  Los  Angel os. 

He  listened  attentively  throughout,  oc 
casionally  interrupting  me  with  question1--, 
on  points  of  more  than  usual  interest,  •  i 
where,  in  my  hasty  narration,  I  had  failed 
to  make  the  matter  clear  to  him. 


and   strive   to  be  res 
It  is  terrible,  though 


ned  to  God's  will. 
terrible  —  to  lose  a 


"  Strange 
had    done  ; 


very, 


i !  "  he  said,  when   I 
very   strange    is    all 


beloved  parent,  and  not  be  at  hand  to  hear  !  this  !  It  looks  improbable  —  seems  im- 
his  parting  words,  nor  see  him  set  forth  on  \  possible — and  yet  I  do  not  doubt  your 
that  journey  from  whence  none  ever  return.  !  word.  So,  then,  I  am  not  worth  a  dollar?" 
But  I — I — will  strive  to  bear  it — to  at  least  J  "Do  not  let  that  trouble  you,  Charles  ! 
appear  calm.  And  now,  dear  Frank —  i  While  I  have  money,  neither  you  nor  your 
mv — mv — I  fear  to  mention  who — lest  I  friends  shall  wanl." 


hear  more  painful,  heart-rending  tidings." 
"  You  mean  your  mother  and  sister  ?" 
He  grasped  my  arni  nervously,  partly 
averted  his  head,  as  if  in  dread  of  my  an 
swer,  and  answered  almost  inautliblv  : 
•I  do." 

"  Be  not  alarmed,  dear  Charles  !  I  left 
hem  well." 

"  Left  them  well  ?  "  he  repeated,  in  sur 
prise.  "  Did  not  you  tell  me  you  had  not 
been  home  ?  " 

"  True  !  neither  have  1."  '  ful 


"  I  know  it,  Frank,"  he  said,  pressing 
my  hand  warmly  ;  •'  I  know  it.  That,  al 
present,  is  the  least  of  my  concern.  And' 
so  you  have  seen  the  Unknown  ?  and  sho 
is  called  Eva  Mortimer?"  He  mused  A 
moment,  and  added  :  "  Well,  this  is  more 
singular  than  ali.  Frank,  we  must  set  out 
for  Oregon  immediately  ! ' 

"As  soon  as  you  please.     And  now  tell 
me  something  of  your  own  adventures." 
"Alas  !  "   sighed  he,  "  after  the  pain- 

•  1         T       *•          1 

news   you  have   communicated,  I  w?i 


ADVENTURES    fN     THE    FAR    WEST 


53 


myself  unable  to  enter  into  particulars.  I 
will  give  you  something  in  brief,  for  I  know 
ypur  curiosity  is  excited.  In  fact,  I  will 
give  you  the  outline  of  my  story,  find  anon 
will  till  it  with  detail." 

"  Proceed." 

"  At  the  time  we  separated  to  follow  the 
wounded  goat,"  he  began,  "I  hurried 
around  the  foot  of  the  mountain  which  you 
were  ascending.  In  my  haste,  I  missed 
the  path,  and  had  spent  some  time  in 
searching  for  it,  when  suddenly  I  found 
myself  surrounded  by  half-a-dozen  gueril 
las,  who,  it  seems,  were  in  waiting  here  for 
the  return  of  a  larger  party,  momentarily 
expected,  when  all  designed  an  attack  upon 
some  merchants  coming  in  from  Santa  Fe. 
A  single  glance  showed  me  resistance 
was  useless,  and  I  surrendered  myself  a 
prisoner.  They  seized  and  began  stripping 
me  of  everything  valuable,  when  it  oc 
curred  to  me  I  could  let  you  know  my  sit 
uation,  and  I  accordingly  shouted  as  if 
calling  to  a  party  of  my  friends.  The 
next  moment  I  was  seized  and  gagged, 
when  the  cowards,  fearful  I  suppose,  this 
precaution  had  been  taken  too  late,  (for  a 
:heer  from  you  was  heard  in  answer,)  and 
.'hat  they  might  be  attacked  soon,  if  they 
remained  where  they  were,  began  to  sneak 
»way,  taking  me  with  them. 

"  When  they  had  rendered  themselves 
*af&,  by  penetrating  farther  into  the  mount- 
r.ins,  they  kept  quiet  till  night,  and  then 
•allied  forth  to  the  rendezvous,  where  they 
joined  the  others,  in  all  some  twenty  per 
sons. 

"  A  consultation  was  now  held,  whether 
I  should  be  put  to  death,  or  taken  along 
und  sold  into  slavery.  The  latter  was 
timilly  adopted,  and  Gonzalez,  the  chief, 
look  me  unJer  his  charge.  Taking  the 
"great  Spanish  trail,  we  set  oft  toward  San 
ta  Fe,  traveling  mostly  in  the  night  and 
lying  by  through  the  day,  of:en  in  ambush 
for  some  unfortunate  wayfarers,  who,  in 
the  encounters  that  sometimes  ensued,  gen 
erally  lost  both  money  and  life.  My  dear 
Frank,  I  could  describe  events  which  have 
passed  before  my  own  eyes,  that  would 
make  your  hair  stand  with  horror  ;  but 
but  these  are  almost  irrelevant  to  my  story, 
aud  so  I  shall  omit  them. 

"  It  was  a  strange  fancy  they  had  formed 
nf  selling  me  into  slavery,  and  I  couH 
4 


never  rightly  comprehend  it.  It  could  not 
have  been  for  the  amount  I  would  bring— 
for  that  was  small,  in  comparison  to  the 
trouble  I  must  have  cost  them  in  guarding 
me  from  escape.  No !  I  am  inclined  to 
think  it  the  result  of  a  whim — perhaps  01 
the  chief — who  ever  treated  me  with  as 
much  leniency  as  I  could  expect,  or  have 
dared  to  ask  for.  Still  I  was  made  to  dc» 
menial  services,  and  used  as  a  slave  ;  and 
it  might  have  been  my  life  was  preserved 
for  this  ;  for  save  myself,  the  party  had 
no  servant.  0  !  how  it  made  my  blood 
boil  at  times,  when  I  thought  what  I 
had  been,  and  what  I  was  !  and  how  1 
groaned  in  secret,  to  think  what  must  be 
your  feelings,  and  the  feelings  of  my 
friends,  should  the  latter  ever  hear  of  my 
fate  !  But  1  still  had  hope  ;  I  was  still 
alive  ;  and  I  struggled  to  bear  up  manful 
ly,  and  be  resigned  to  my  lot  till  Provi 
dence  should  favor  my  escape. 

"  The  first  hundred  miles  I  was  forced 
to  proceed  on  foot — the  robbers  having  no 
horses  but  what  they  rode  themselves. 
Sometimes  they  traveled  fast,  obliging  me 
to  keep  them  company,  and  in  consequence 
I  suffered  most  severely.  At  last  one  of 
the  band  got  killed  in  an  affray,  and  his 
beast  was  assigned  to  me,  which  proved  a 
great  relief. 

"  One  day  the  chief  informed  me,  that 
if  I  would  take  the  oath  of  his  dictation,  1 
might  join  the  band  and  have  my  free 
dom — or  rather,  the  freedom  of  a  robber. 
I  declined  his  offer,  in  language  so  deci 
sive  that  he  never  after  repeated  the  prop 
osition,  and  I  continued  as  before,  a  slave. 
But  I  must  avoid  detail. 

"At  last  we  reached  the  Sierra  de  los 
Mimbres,  where  the  band  divided — the 
chief  and  a  few  followers  taking  me  down 
to  S-iri  Domingo,  where  I  was  offered  for 
sale.  Not  meeting  with  success  here,  he 
continued  down  through  the  several  vil 
lages,  and,  in  short,  to  the  very  hacienda 
whither  you  and  another  (God  bless  you 
both  !)  traced  me.  Had  he  failed  here  in 
disposing  of  me  to  Pedro  Lopez,  I  do  be 
lieve  he  would  have  put  ail  end  to  my 
existence. 

"After  much  quibbling,  the  bargain 
was  at  last  struck,  and  I  became  the  prop 
erty  of  Pedro  Lopez.  I  shall  now  pasi 
over  the  period  of  my  slavery — the  most 


LEN1     LfiOTI;     OR, 


unhappy  ons  of  my  life.  True,  I  wa: 
treated  better  than  ray  comoanions,  and, 
on  the  whole,  suffered  much  less  physi 
cally  than  mentally.  But  still  I  knew  my- 
Sflf  a  slave — knew  I  was  degraded ;  and 
the  thought  of  my  position — that  thus  1 
might  be  doomed  to  spend  my  days 
nearly  drove  me  mad.  Sometimes  evil 
thoughts  would  enter  my  head  ;  and  then 
I  would  half  resolve  to  kill  my  master  and 
Lake  the  consequences,  or  put  an  end  to 
my  own  being.  Then  hope  would  revive, 
that  something  might  turn  up  for  my  de 
liverance,  and  t  would  strive  to  labor  on, 
resigned  to  bide  my  time.  Thus  a  year 
rolled  around,  when  one  day  Pedro  Lopez 
came  to  me  and  inquired  if  I  were  con- 
tenu-d  with  my  situation !  At  first  I 
thought  he  was  mocking  me,  and  I  half- 

•  ^  i 

raised  a  garden-tool  I  had  in  my  hand 
to  dash  ou'  his  brains.  He  must  have 
guessed  rny  intention  from  my  looks  ;  for 
he  took  a  step  back,  and  bade  me  be 
calm  and  give  him  a  civil  answer.  1  re 
plied  by  inquiring  if  he  would  feel  con 
tented  to  be  a  slave  in  a  foreign  land  ? 
He  shook  his  head,  and  said  he  would  not 
— that  he  had  felt  for  my  situation  from 
the  tirst — and  that  that  was  the  cause  of 
my  being  treated  better  than  my  compan 
ions.  He  then  toKl  me,  that  as  I  had  ever 
behaved  myself  wilh  propriety,  and  as  he 
had  been  offered  a  fair  ransom  by  a  small 
tribe  of  la  lians,  if  1  felt  disposed  to  go 
with  them  he  would  give  up  all  claim  to 
me.  A  thought  Hashed  upon  me,  that 
possibly  this  might  be  the  tribe  of  Great 
Medicine,  and  I  begged  to  see  them.  My 
request  was  granted,  and,  the  first  glance 
showed  me  1  was  right  in  my  conjectures  ; 
and  uttering  a  joyful  cry,  1  rushed  outside 
the  gate,  to  where  they  were  assembled 
before  the  walls  of  the  hacienda. 

«"  Frank,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  de 
scribe  my  feelings  then.  Life,  liberty, 
everything  joyous,  seemed  bursting  upon 
mf  ut  once,  and  my  brain  grew  dizzy  with 
the  exhilarating,  intoxicating  thoughts.  I 
hugged  the  tirst  Indian  I  met;  I  danced, 
capered  around,  shouted,  laughed,  cried — 
in  short,  did  everything  extravagant  to 
give  my  overpowering  feelings  vent.  For 
an  hour  or  two  I  was  insane  with  joy,  and 
my  reasoning  powers  as  bewildered  as 
those  of  a  lunatic.  At  last  I  be^an  to 


grow  calm  ;  and  then  I  went  around  to 
each  of  my  old  friends  and  shook  them  by 
the  hand,  thanked  them  with  tearful  eyes 
and  trembling  voice  for  my  deliverance, 
and  received  their  congratulations  and 
caresses  in  return. 

"But  where  was  Prairie  Flcwer  ?  As 
yet  I  had  not  seen  her.  I  made  the  in 
quiry,  but  could  get  no  direct  answer. 
Some  shook  their  heads,  others  said  she 
was  not  here,  and  others  again  that  she 
was  away.  Finding  none  would  answer 
me,  I  concluded  they  had  a  sufficient  rea 
son  for  their  evasion,  and  dropped  the 
subject. 

"  When  everything  had  been  satisfac 
torily  arranged,  and  I  became  reasonably 
sooted  down,  we  al!  set  out  toward  the 
north.  A  horse  had  been  provided  for 
me,  and  all  were  mounted — the  females, 
of  whom  there  were  several,  mostly  on 
mules. 

"Some  three  miles  from  the  hacienda, 
we  reached  a  heavy  wood.  Entering  this 
about  a  mile,  we  made  a  halt  by  a  spring. 
While  watering  the  animals,  I  heard  a  dis 
tant  rustling  of  the  bushes  and  the  tramp 
of  more  horses.  Presently  an  airy  figure, 
gaily  attired,  and  mounted  on  a  coal  black 
Indian  pony,  burst  through  a  dense  cops« 
near  me,  followed  by  five  dusky  maidens, 
and  rode  swiftly  up  to  where  I  was  stand 
ing  by  my  steed. 

"  '  Prairie  Flower ! '  I  shouted  ;  and  the 
next  moment  she  was  on  her  feet,  and  her 
hand  clasped  in  mine. 

" '  0,  the  emotions  of  that  moment ! 
Time  seemed  to  have  turned  his  wheel 
backward,  and  years  of  toil,  and  grief,  and 
fatigue,  were  forgotten.  Passions,  which 
had  slumbered,  or  been  half-obliterated 
by  other  events,  were  again  awakened  and 
wrenched  from  their  secret  recesses  ;  and 
I  saw  her  as  I  had  seen  her  three  years 
before,  and  felt  all  I  had  then  felt,  but  in 
a  two- fold  sense. 

"As  for  Prairie  Flower,  she  wsi«  pale  and 
exceedingly  agitated.  She  grasped  my  hand 
nerrously,  gave  one  searching  glance  at 
my  features,  and  burst  into  tears — but  did 
not  speak.  Then  she  sprang  away  from 
me  a  few  paces,  dashed  the  tears  from  hei 
eyes,  and  returning  with  a  bound,  asked 
me  a  dozen  questions  in  a  breath  :  '  How 
had  been?  Where  I  had  been?  If  1 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


55 


were  well  ?  If  I  were  glad  to  get  my  liber 
ty  ?  •  and  so  on  ;  and  wound  up  by  adding : 
•  She  was  rejoiced  to  see  me,  and  hoped 
I  should  be  more  fortunate  hereafter.' 

"Throughout  our  first  brief  interview, 
her  manner  was  wild  and  her  language 
almost  incoherent  —  which,  so  different 
from  anything  I  had  seen,  surprised  and 
alarmed  me.  She  would  ask  a  question, 
and  then,  without  waiting  an  answer,  ask 
another  and  another,  or  make  some  remark 
altogether  irrelevant.  At  last,  whh  a 
hope  that  I  would  now  be  happy,  she  in 
formed  me  that  she  could  see  me  no  more 
that  day ;  and  before  I  had  time  to  reply, 
she  skipped  away,  sprang  into  her  saddle 
and  was  oft' — followed  by  ail  the  females 
of  the  tribe,  and  some  half  a  dozen  of  the 
other  sex. 

"  This  proceeding  perplexed  me  not  a 
little.  I  asked  several  the  meaning  of  it, 
but  they  only  shook  their  heads,  and  I 
was  left  to  ponder  it  over  in  secret. 

"We  pursued  our  way  slowly  toward 
ihe  north,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  Prairie 
Flower,  nor  of  those  who  had  accom 
panied  her,  till  about  noon  of  the  succeed 
ing  day,  when  she  again  joined  us,  with 
the  balance  of  the  tribe,  among  whom 
were  some  women  and  children  I  had  not 
before  seen,  which  led  me  to  infer  there 
had  been  two  camps,  and  this  supposition 
was  subsequently  confirmed  by  Prairie 
Flower  herself. 

"  My  second  meeting  with  Prairie  Flow 
er  was  very  different  from  the  n'rst.  She 
was  calm,  constrained,  and  I  fancied  cold ; 
though  somehow  I  was  led  to  think  this 
rather  forced  than  natural.  She  was  po 
lite,  civil,  and  agreeable;  but  all  that  pas 
sionate  enthusiasm  of  the  preceding  day 
was  gone.  She  did  not  speak  with  free 
dom,  and  her  Avords  seemed  studied,  and 
her  sentences  regulated  by  previous 
thought.  In  fact,  she  seemed  to  have 
relapsed  into  the  same  state  as  when  we 
first  were  guests  of  herself  and  tribe. 
There  was  either  something  very  myste 
rious  about  this,  or  else  it  sprang  from 
one  natural  cause — and  my  vanity,  it  may 
be,  led  me  to  infer  the  latter.  If  she 
loved  me,  her  actions  were  easily  account 
ed  for ;  if  she  did  not  care  for  me,  why 
ha'J  she  taken  so  much  pains,  as  her  own 
•ips  revealed,  to  hunt  me  out  ? 


"  In  course  of  conversation  which  en 
sued,  she  narrated  how  she  had  met  you 
—  under  what  circumstances  —  and  how, 
urged  on  by  a  sense  of  duty,  she  had  at 
once  set  off  with  her  tribe  in  the  hope  of 
learning  something  more  of  my  fate. 
Fortune  favored  her ;  for  while  on  her 
way  south,  she  met  with  an  old  mountain 
eer,  who  gave  her  tidings  of  a  cheering 
nature.  As  her  adventures  have  been  so 
much  like  your  own,  Frank,  I  shall  not 
enter  into  detail.  Enough  that  she  was 
successful  in  finding  me,  and  that  I  am 
here. 

"  Day  after  day,  as  we  traveled  north, 
I  had  more  or  less  interviews  with  Prairie 
Flower ;  but  though  she  ever  treated  me 
with  respect  and  politeness,  she  always 
studied  to  avoid  familiarity. 

"  At  last  we  reached  the  present  spot, 
where  the  tribe  have  encamped  for  a  few 
weeks,  or  until  the  fishers  and  hunters 
shall  have  laid  in  a  supply  of  provisions, 
when  they  intend  proceeding  farther  north. 
From  Prairie  Flower  having  seen  you 
where  she  did,  I  inferred  you  had  gone 
home,  and  every  day  have  been  intending 
to  follow.  But  somehow,  when  the  time 
has  come  to  start,  I  have  again  put  it  off 
for  another  twenty-four  hours,  and  thus 
have  been  delaying  day  after  day,  for  what 
purpose  I  hardly  know  myself.  I  believe 
1  have  been  held  here  by  some  charm  toe 
powerful  to  break,  and  now  that  you  have 
come  I  am  glad  of  it." 

"  And  that  charm,"  said  I,  as  my 
friend  concluded  with  a  sigh,  "is  Prairie 
Flower." 

"It  may  be,"  he  answered,  musingly. 
"  She  is  so  strange — I  do  not  know  what 
to  make  of  her.  She  is  not  an  Indian— -I 
feel  certain  of  that ;  but  as  to  who  she  is, 
1  am  «s  unenlightened  as  ever.  Do  you 
really  think  she  loves  me,  Frank  ? "  he 
asked  suddenly,  rousing  himself  and  fast 
ening  his  eye  earnestly  upon  mine. 

"  How  can  I  answer?  "  I  said,  evasively. 
"  But  I  know  of  one  that  does,  Charles." 

"  You  mean  the  Unknown  —  or  rather, 
Eva  Mortimer?"  he  rejoined,  musingly. 

"  I  do.  I  have  already  delivered  her 
message,  sufficient  to  assure  you  of  the 
fact ;  and  she  is  certainly  one  worthy  of 
being  loved." 

"It  may  be,"  he  sighed,   "and  then* 


teas  a  time,  Frank,  sueli  intelligence  would 
have  made  me  happy.  But  now  —  (he 
paused,  shook  his  head*  and  mused  a  mo 
ment) —  now  it  is  not  so.  When  I  first 
saw  feVR,  I  had  never  seen  Prairie  Flower: 
and  ert;  the  germ  of  a  first  passion  had 
been  brought  to  maturity,  the  tree  was 
transplanted  to  another  soil,  and  the  sun 
of  another  clime,  although  it  did  not  change 
i's  nature,  ripened  it  to  another  light.  Or, 
to  drop  all  metaphor,"  he  added,  "  Eva  was 
the  first  to  arouse  in  me  a  latent  passion, 
which  doubtless  a  proper  intercourse  would 
have  warmed  to  a  mutual  attachment ;  but 
ere  this  was  consummated  —  ere  I  even 
knew  who  she  was — without  a  hope  of 
ever  seeing  her  again  —  I  departed,  and 
have  never  beheld  her  since.  She  touch 
ed  some  secret  chord  in  my  breast,  and  I 
dwelt  on  her  memory  for  a  time,  and  loved 
her  as  an  unapproachable  ideal,  rather 
than  as  an  approachable  substance.  I 
loved  her — or  fancied  I  did — rather  that  I 
had  nothing  else  on  which  to  place  my  af 
fections,  than  for  any  substantial  cause. 
In  another  I  afterward  found  a  resem 
blance  which  arrested  my  attention,  and 
changed  the  current  of  mv  thoughts.  The 

O    '  t  j  O 

singular  manner  in  which  we  were  thrown 
together — our  daily  interviews — my  grati 
tude  to  her  as  the  preserver  of  my  life  and 
yours — her  generosity — in  short,  the  con 
centration  in  her  of  every  noble  quality — 
the  absence  of  all  others — gradually  drew 
me  to  Prairie  Flower  ;  and  ere  I  was  aware 
of  it  myself,  I  found  her  presence  neces 
sary  to  my  happiness.  At  last  we  parted, 
as  you  know  how,  and  I  strove  to  forget 
her  ;  bat,  Frank,  though  I  mentioned  her 
not  to  you,  I  now  tell  you,  that  I  strove  a 
long  time  in  vain.  By  day  and  by  night, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  did  she  occupy 
my  thoughts ;  and  it  was  only  when  mis 
fortunes  fell  upon  me  that  her  image  gra 
dually  gave  place  to  more  trying  thoughts. 
But  our  second  meeting  —  an  additional 
debt  of  gratitude  for  deliverance  from 
•In very — has  done  the  work  ;  and  I  now 
feel  I  can  love  none  but  Prairie  Flow 
er." 

"  Then  you  are  really  in  love,  Charles  '!" 
"  I  am ;  and  I  fear  hopelessly  so." 
"  I  fear  so  too,"  sighed  I.     "  But  where 
IB  Prairie  Flower  ?     I  must  see  and  thank 
her  from  my  heart." 


As  I  spoke,  the  subjejt  of  oui  conver 
sation  glided  into  the  rude  lodge,  and  stood 
before  me. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

AT'PKARANCE      OF      PRAIRIE      FLOWER  —  HBfc 

BEAUTY HER    STRONG     RESEMBLANCE    TO 

EVA STARTLING     SUSPICION MAKE    IT 

KNOWN HER    AGITATION PROMISED     15- 

QUIRY ABRUPT    DEPARTURE-    MY    FRIENH 

IN    LOVE INTERRUPTION. 

"  PRAIRIE  FLOWER!  my  dearest  friend!" 
I  exclaimed,  springing  to  my  feet  and 
clasping  her  extended  hands  in  both  of 
mine:  "Prairie  Flower!  this  is  a  happj 
meeting — most  happy  !  " 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  Mr.  Lei^'h 
ton,"  she,  said,  with  something  like  a  siyh 
"  very,  very  glad  !  "  and  she  closed  in  • 
tremulous  tone,  while  her  dark  eyes  filed 
with  tears. 

0,  how  beautiful  she  laoked,  as  we  st(.od 
face  to  face,  her  hands  clasped  in  mire  ! 
Never  had  she  appeared  more  lovely  > 
Since  our  first  meeting,  time  had  ripened 
her  to  full  maturity;  and  though  her  sweet 
countenance  was  pale  and  sad,  and  though 
something  like  care  and  thought  could  be 

O,O 

traced  thereon,  yet  it  was  so  mellowed,  so 
blended  with  something  lofty  and  noble, 
that  it  added  a  peculiar  charm  to  her 
appearance  which  mere  physical  beauty 
could  not  sustain.  It  was  a  something 
that,  while  you  admired,  awakened  your 
sympathy,  and  drew  you  to  her,  as  toward 
one  you  felt  it  your  duty  and  delight  to 
soothe,  cherish,  and  protect.  As  I  gazed 
upon  her  a  moment  in  silence,  I  became 
forcibly  struck  with  the  resemblance  she 
bore  to  Eva  Mortimer.  She  was  a  shade 
darker,  perhaps  ;  but  this  might  be  owing 
to  her  lite  in  the  mountains,  and  constant 
exposure  to  the  free,  bracing  air.  There 
was  the  same  mold  of  feature,  and  in  her 
now  sad  and  thoughtful  expression,  a 
marked  resemblance  to  that  I  had  seen  on 
the  countenance  of  Eva  as  she  bade  mo 
farewell.  A  sudden  thought  sent  a  he* 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE     FAR    WEST. 


flush  over  me,  and  involuntarily  I  took  a 
8tep  backward  and  scrutinized  her  again. 
Good  heavens  !  could  it  be  possible  !  No  ! 
no  !  it  was  too  visionary  !  And  yet  why 
too  visionary,  I  said,  half  aloud.  As 
strange  things  had  happened.  Eva  had 
a  sister — a  twin  sister — who  was  lost  at 
an  infantile  age  —  who  had  been  stolen 
away.  There  was  no  existing  proof — or 
at  least  none  to  my  knowledge — that  that 
sister  was  dead :  no  one  knew  what  had 
become  of  her.  Here  was  a  being  of  her 
own  age  apparently,  and  of  a  marked  re 
semblance.  Her  history  she  would  never 
touch  upon — perhaps  did  not  know.  Might 
Prairie  Flower  not  be  that  twin  sister  ? 
The  thought,  the  suspicion,  was  wild  and 
romantic — but  what  argument  was  there 
against  it  ?  The  ways  of  Providence  are 
strange,  but  not  in  all  cases  past  finding 
out. 

"  It  must — it  must  be  so  !  "  I  ejacula 
ted,  completely  absorbed  with  my  specu- 
j  lations,  and  forgetful  of  everything  around 
tn€'.. 

[  was  aroused  from  my  reverie,  by  the 
|  voices  of    both  my   friend    and    Prairie 
Flower. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Frank  ?  "  cried 
Hantly,  grasping  my  arm,  shaking  me, 
and  gazing  upon  me  with  a  look  of  alarm. 
"  Speak  to  me  !  speak  !  that  I  may  know 
you  have  your  reason  !  " 

"Are  you  ill,  sir?"  joined  in  Prairie 

Flower,  with  a  startled  look.     "I  fear  you 

are  ill,  Francis  !     Fatigue   has  overcome 

him,"  she  added  to  Huntly.     "  Better  get 

i  him  to  lie  down  on  the  mat,  while  I  run 

for  assistance." 

•-  "Stay!  stay!"  I  exclaimed,  as  the 
;  latter  turned  to  depart.  "  I  am  not  ill.  I 
I  was  only — I  beg  your  pardon  ! — did  I  act 
(Strangely  ?  " 

"  As  I  never  saw  you  before,"  replied 
Huntly.  "  You  stared  wildly  at  Prairie 
Flower,  and  spoke  incoherently.  Tell  me! 
are  you  in  your  senses  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly  I  am.  I  was  only 
thinking  of — of " 

"Of  what,  pray?" 

"  Prairie  Flower,  speak  ?  "  I  exclaimed, 
addressing  her,  as  she  stood  near  the  en- 
i  trance,  uncertain  whether  to  depart  or  not : 
"Speak  !  what  do  you  know  of  your  his 
tory  ? " 


"  My  history  ? "  she  repeated  in  sur 
prise.  "  Have  I  not  forbid  you " 

"  Never  mind  now !  I  have  important 
reasons  for  asking." 

She  colored  to  the  eyes,  and  seemed 
greatly  embarrassed. 

"  What  reasons  can  you  have,"  she  re 
joined,  "  for  asking  this,  in  this  wild  man 
ner  ?  You  surprise  and  alarm  me  !  " 

"  A  resemblance,"  I  replied,  "  a  strong 
resemblance  you  bear  to  another.  Fear 
not  to  tell  me  and  my  friend  what  you 
know,  and  we  promise,  if  necessary,  to 
keep  your  secret  inviolate." 

"  Ay,  do,  Prairie  Flower  ! "  urged 
Huntly,  vehemently,  who  now  compre 
hended  the  whole  matter.  "  Speak,  dear 
Prairie  Flower,  without  reserve  !  Speak, 
1  pray  you  !  for  much  depends  upon  your 
answer." 

"  Are  you  both  mad  ?  "  she  said,  look 
ing  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  doubting 
our  sanity. 

"No!  no!"  I. returned,  "we  are  not 
mad,  but  in  our  sober  senses.  A  weighty 
reason,  which  my  friend  did  not  at  first, 
but  now  understands,  and  all  important  to 
you  as  well  as  ourselves  and  others,  in 
duces  the  inquiry.  Come,  Sweet  Prairie 
Flower  !  will  you  not  grant  our  request  ?  " 

She  hung  down  her  head,  tapped  the 
earth  with  her  foot,  and  seemed  confused 
and  agitated.  I  approached  and  gently 
took  her  hand,  and  again  in  a  soothing 
voice  entreated  her  to  tell  us  all  she  knew, 
reiterating  my  promise,  that,  if  necessary, 
it  should  never  pass  to  other  ears. 

"  Say,  sweet  being  !  are  you  not  of  oui 
race  ?— are  you  not  a  pale-face  ?  " 

For  some  time  she  did  not  reply,  during 
which  she  seemed  struggling  to  master  her 
emotions.  At  length  a  half  inaudible  •'  I 
am  "  escaped  her  lips. 

"I  thought  so — I  could  almost  have 
sworn  it ! "  I  returned,  triumphantly. 
"  And  your  parents,  Prairie  Flower?  " 

She  burst  into  tears,  and  hid  her  face  in 
her  hands. 

"  Nay,  sweet  Prairie  Flower,  be  calm1" 
I  added.  "Do  not  let  this  affect  you  so 
seriously.  I  do  not  seek  to  pry  into  vrvui 
private  affairs,  only  so  far  as  I  fancy  thti 
knowledge  imparted  may  benefit  yourself. 
Tell  me  —  did  you  or  do  you  know  your 
|  parents?" 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


SLe  shook  /.er  head  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  Believe  me,  gentle  maiden,  nothing  is 
further  from  my  design,  than  to  wound 
your  feelings  or  recall  painful  associations. 
Do  you  know  how  you  came  among  the 
Indians '? " 

"Something  I  know,"  she  answered. 

"  Will  you  tell  us  what  you  know  ?" 

"  As  you  seem  so  anxious,"  she  said, 
making  an  effort  to  dry  her  tears,  "  I  will, 
on  condition  I  gain  the  consent  of  Cha- 
eha-chee-kee-hobah." 

"  And  what  has  he  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  promised  to  reveal  nothing 
without  his  consent.  And  now  I  think  of 
it,"  she  quickly  added,  "perhaps  I  have 
done  wrong  in  saying  what  I  have." 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  Prairie 
Flower  ;  for  even  he  could  attach  no  blame 
to  what  you  have  said.  But  how  came 
you  to  promise  him  this  ?  " 

"  He  exacted  it  of  me  as  my  guardian." 

"  Indeed  !  Then  he  must  know  your 
history  ?  " 

"  He  knows  more  of  it  than  I  do." 

Then  I  must  see  him  at  once.  Pray, 
conduct  me  to  him  !  " 

"Nay,  sir,"  she  answered,  "it  were 
useless.  He  would  tell  you  nothing.  He 
is  old,  and  singular,  and  would  look  upon 
you  as  an  intruder.  I  will  see  him,  and 
see  what  can  be  done.  He  loves  me,  and 
I  have  more  influence  over  him  than  any 
other  of  the  tribe.  If  he  refuses  to  tell 
me,  no  earthly  power  can  open  his  lips, 
and  the  secret  will  go  down  to  the  grave 
with  him.  But  now  let  me  hear  some 
thing  of  yourself,  and  how  we  all  came  to 
meet  again  in  a  manner  so  singular." 

"  One  question  more,  Prairie  Flower." 

"  Nay,  no  more.  I  will  answer  nothing 
farther,  till  I  have  consulted  the  Old-Man- 
of-the-Mountains." 

"  Be  it  so,  then,"  I  answered  ;  and  the 
conversation  changed  to  matters  connected 
with  my  present  adventure. 

We  were  still  engaged  in  recalling  past 
events,  when  an  Indian  maiden  hurriedly 
entered  the  lodge,  and  said  something  in 
her  own  language  to  Prairie  Flower. 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  exclaimed,  starting  and 
turning  deadly  pale.  "  Gentlemen,  excuse 
me  !  "  and  she  hastened  from  the  cot. 

"  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  this  ?  " 
•aid  tiuntly. 


"  Some  startling  news,  I  judge.  Per 
haps  some  one  has  been  taken  ill  and  sent 
for  her." 

"And  so,  Frank,"  returned  Huntly  the 
next  moment,  "  you  really  think  Prairie 
Flower  and  Eva  sisters  ?  " 

"  There  is  so  strong  a  resemblance,  my 
friend,  that,  Tintil  I  have  proof  to  the  con 
trary,  I  can  hardly  believe  otherwise." 

"Strange!"  he  rejoined,  musingly: 
"  Strange  !  very  strange  !  Yet  since  you 
have  told  me  something  of  the  history  of 
the  Mortimers,  I  must  say  the  matter  looks 
possible,  not  to  say  probable." 

"  At  all  events,"  I  returned,  "  there  is 
mystery  somewhere,  and  I  shall  not  rest 
till  it  be  sifted  to  the  bottom.  I  hope  she 
may  prevail  upon  the  old  man  to  allow  her 
to  tell  what  she  knows,  even  if  he  add 
nothing  himself." 

"  And  should  it  turn  out  as  we  suspoct, 
Frank  !  "  said  Huntly  with  great  energy, 
grasping  my  arm  as  he  spoke. 

"Well?" 

"  You  know  I — that  is " 

"  I  understand.  You  would  have  hei 
the  closest  of  kin — eh  !  Charles  ?  " 

"  Say  no  more.  I  see  you  understand 
me.  But  then,  I " 

"  Well,  say  on." 

"I — that  is — you — perhaps  she — she 
does  not  fancy  me  !  " 

"  What !  do  you  doubt  ?  " 

"Why,  no  —  yes — I — I  cannot  sny  1 
doubt — but — but  she  is  so  strange,  Fnmk. 
I  would  give  the  world  to  have  her  talk  to 
me  with  the  freedom  she  does  to  you." 

"And  if  you  really  love  her,  Charles, 
you  should  give  the  world  to  have  every 
thing  exactly  the  reverse ;  in  other  words, 
exactly  as  it  is." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  simply,  that  she  docs  not  love 
me." 

"Are  you  sure  of  this,  Frank?"  and 
Huntly  fastened  his  eyes  intently  upon 
mine,  as  if  to  read  my  soul. 

"  As,  sure  as  that  the  sun  shines  at  noon 
day." 

"  And  you  think  she — she " 

"  Loves  another." 

Huntly  turned  deadly  pnle. 

"Who,  Frank?  — who?" 

"  Charles  Huntly." 

!"  he  "xclaimed  with  a  rai>i,j 


AD\£,NTURES     IN     THE     FAR    WEST. 


change 

" 


of    countenance. 


You   think 


"  1  know  it." 

He  took  a  step  backward  and  looked  at 
me  hard  a  moment  —  during  which  his  co 
lor  came  and  went  rapidly,  and  his  breath 
ing  became  audible  —  and  then  said,  im- 

O 

t  restively  : 

"  Frank,  do  not  jest  with  me  !  To  me 
ibis  matter  is  of  the  gravest  importance." 

"  I  do  ,not  jest,  Charles  ;  I  know  your 
feelings,  and  you  may  rest  assured  I 
would  be  the  last  to  jest  with  them." 

"  And  you  say  she  loves  me  ?" 

"I  do." 

He  grasped  my  hand,  the  tears  sprang 
into  his  eyes,  and  his  voice  trembled  as  he 
rejoined  : 

"  Frank,  I  thank  you  for  these  words. 
I  am  sufi'ering  under  deep  affliction  —  my 
life  is  clouded  —  but,  if  this  be  true,  there 
is  still  sunshine  —  still  an  oasis  in  the  des 
ert  —  still  something  to  look  forward  to." 

"  My  words  are  true,  my  friend,  if  that 
is  any  consolation." 

"  And  how  have  you  discovered  this  so 
suddenly?" 

"  I  have  not.  I  have  known  it  all 
along." 

"  Indeed  !  you  never  told  it  me  before." 

"  True,  and  for  good  reasons." 

"  What  reasons,  I  pray  ?  " 

"  1  did  not  wish  to  encourage  an  at 
tachment  which  may  even  yet  prove  hope 
less." 

"What  mean  you?" 

"As  I  told  you  once  before  :  Prairie 
Flower  may  love  —  nay,  does  love,  mark 
(hat  !  —  but  may  never  marry  —  nay  even 
reject  the  suit  of  him  she  idolizes." 

"  For  what  cause  ?  " 

"That,  she  is  already  wedded  to  her 
tribe." 

"  But  should  she  prove  to  be  what  we 
suspect?  " 

"  That  may  alter  the  case  with  her;  and 
on  the  strength  of  that  supposition,  and 
that  you  have  been  so  mysteriously  bought 
together,  and  that  I  find  your  affections  so 
tJrmiy  placed  upon  her  —  have  I  ventured 
to  tell  you  what  I  have  long  known.  But 
remember,  Charles,  I  warn  you  not  to  be 
loo  sanguine  in  your  expectations  !  " 

"  Well,"  answered  my  friend,  "  I  will 
ope  for  the  best.  It  is  all  very  singu 


lar  !  "  he  added,  relapsing  into  a  milling 
mood. 

"  I  suppose  we  had  better  not  start  for 
Oregon  to-day  ?  "  said  I,  playfully. 

'•No,  not  to-day!"  he  replied;  "rot 
to-day  !  To-morrow,  perhaps." 

"  Or  peradventure  the  day  following?  " 

"  Ay,  peradventure." 

At  this  moment  Teddy,  Pierre  and  Black 
George  appeared  at  the  door  to  pay  their 
respects  to  my  friend,  and  I  quitted  the 
lodge,  bidding  them  pass  in. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

JOIN    AN    INDIAN   CROWD SILENT  RECOGNI 
TION GREAT.  MEDICINE   ILL ANXIETY  TO 

SEE      HIM REAPPEARANCE      OF     PRAIRIB 

FLOWEli — DEVOTION URGE  HER  TO  QUES 
TION    THE     INVALID SUSPENSE PRESENT 

FAILURE SUBSEQUENT  SUCCESS PRAI 
RIE  FLOWER  RESOLVES  TO  VISIT  OREGON 

AN   EVENING   STROLL THE    DEATH  WAIL. 

As  yet  I  had  not  exchanged  a  word  with 
any  of  the  tribe  but  Prairie  Flower ;  and 
as  I  left  the  cot,  I  turned  toward  a  crowd, 
which  was  huddled  together  near  the  cen 
ter  of  the  temporary  village,  their  eyes  all 
tixed  in  a  certain  direction.  I  knew  by 
this,  and  the  abrupt  departure  of  Prairie 
Flower,  that  something  unusual  had  oc 
curred  ;  and  hastening  forward,  I  soon 
reached  them,  and,  to  my  surprise,  found 
most  of  them  in  tears,  and  the  others  look 
ing  very  solemn. 

"What  has  happened,  my  friends?" 
inquired  I. 

On  hearing  my  voice,  those  nearest  me 
turned  round  and  extended  their  hands  in 
silence.  They  then  separated,  so  as  to 
allow  me  a  passage  through  ;  and  as  I 
moved  along,  I  shook  a  hand  of  each  on 
either  side.  They  appeared  glad  to  see 
me,  but,  at  the  same  time,  very  sad,  from 
some  untoward  circumstance,  of  which  I 
felt  anxious  to  be  informed. 

When  I  had  concluded,  I  turned  to  an 
intelligent  youth,  and  inquired  the  caws« 
of  each  and  all  looking  so  serious. 


tff) 


LK  Nl     LKOT1;    OR, 


He  silt  nil y  pointed  his  finger  to  ihc 
ciutei  lodge,  and  after  a  solemn  pause, 
uttered  : 

"  Great  Medicine." 

"Sick?" 

He  nodded  his  head. 

This,  then,  accounted  for  the  agitation 
tif  Prairie  Flower  ;  and  after  what  had 
passed  between  us  regarding  her  history, 
it  may  readily  be  inferred  I  felt  no  little 
anxiety  to  ascertain  to  what  extent  the 
old  man  was  indisposed,  and  whether  his 
case  was,  or  was  net,  considered  immedi 
ately  dangerous.  He  was  very  old  I 
knew,  and  in  all  probability  would  not 
long  survive.  Should  he  die  without  re 
vealing  to  Prairie  Flower  her  history,  all 
dependence  of  proof  from  her  would  be 
cut  off,  and  it  would  doubtless  be  a  very 
difficult,  if  not  an  impossible  endeavor,  to 
rndentify  her  with  the  lost  daughter  of 
Madame  Mortimer.  On  this  account,  as 
well  as  for  old  acquaintance-sake,  i  was 
very  anxious  to  enter  the  lodge  —  at  the 
door,  or  just  outside  of  which,  were  stand 
ing  several  females,  weeping.  I  made  a 
step  forward  for  this  purpose,  when  an  In 
dian  touched  me  on  the  shoulder  and 
shook  his  head,  as  a  siy;n  that  I  must  o'o 

o  o 

no  nearer. 

"  I  have  most  important  business  with 
the  invalid, "  I  said.  "  Can  I  not  be  per 
mitted  to  see  him  ?  " 

He  again  shook  his  head. 

"  But  this  matter  is  urgent." 

"  No  one  must  see-  him,"  he  answered, 
"  but  such  as  he  desires  to  see." 

"  Then  let  me  see  Prairie  Flower." 

"  She  must  not  now  be  called.  We  wait 
her  appearance." 

"  \Vill  she  soon  be  here  ?  " 

•'  Cannot  say." 

There  was  nothing  to  do,  therefore,  but 
wait  as  patiently  as  I  could.  What  trou 
bled  me  the  most,  was  the  fear  that  the 
old  man  might  die  suddenly,  and  Prairie 
Flower,  in  her  agitation,  neglect  to  ques 
tion  him  till  too  late.  For  an  hour  I  paced 
to  and  fro,  in  a  very  Uneasy  mood,  revolv 
ing  these  things  in  my  mind,  when  the 
latter  made  her  appearance  outside  the 
lodge,  where  she  was  instantly  surrounded 
by  those  nearest  in  waiting,  all  eager  for 
her  intelligence.  Having  spoken  a  few 
words  with  them,  they  all -moved  slowly 


away  with  sorrowful  loots,  and  Pram* 
Flower  approached  to  where  I  was  stand* 
ing.  The  Indians,  though  as  anxious  as 
myself  to  gain  her  lidings,  moved  not  from 
their  places,  but  waked  in  respectful  si 
lence  for  her  to  open  the  conversation.  I, 
however,  not  being  bred  in  the  same  school 
with  them,  could  not  exercise  the  same 
patience  ;  and  taking  a  lev  steps  forward. 
I  said . 

"  Great  Medicine  is  ill,  Prairie  Flow 
er  ?  " 

"  He  is,"  she  ans^-red  in  a  tremulous 


;'Very.  ill?  dangeiously  ill?"  I  in 
quired. 

"  I  fear  he  is." 

The  Indians  behind  me,  on  hearing  this, 
uttered  several  deep  groans,  but  said  nol 
a  word. 

"  Can  he  survive,  Prairie  Flower?" 

"  I  think  not,"  she  answered,  mourn 
fully  shaking  her  head. 

"  Any  particular  disease  ?" 

"  Old  age  and  debility.  He  is  very 
old,  and  has  not  been  well  for  some  time. 
A  few  minutes- before  I  was  called,  he  was 
taken  very  ill.  I  fear  his  time  to  go  is  at 
hand.  Friends,"  she  added,  addressing 
her  tribe,  "  you  are  about  to  lose  one  you 
love  and  reverence.  Let  us  commend  his 
soul  to  the  Great  Spirit ;  "  thereupon  each 
and  all  kneeled  upon  the  earth  in  prayer. 

When  this  was  over,  I  turned  to  Prairie 
Flower  again 

"  Pardon  me,  fair  being  !  "  I  said,  "  at 
this  solemn  time,  for  intruding  worldly 
thoughts  upon  your  attention.  But  the 
Old-man-ot'-the-Mountains  is  about  to  de 
part,  in  all  probability,  to  join  his  fathers 
and  friends  in  another  state.  You  think 
he  holds  the  key  to  your  history.  If  you 
have  not  already,  would  it  not  be  well  for 
you  to  bid  him  unlock  the  memories  of  the 
past,  so  far  as  relates  to  yourself?" 

"  True,"  she  answered,  with  a  start ;  "  I 
had  forgotten  that.  I  fear  it  is  too  late ; 
for  already  his  voice  falters,  and  he  seems 
standing  midway  between  time  and  eter 
nity,  and  slowly  receding  toward  th« 
shadowy  land  of  spirits." 

"  Fly  !  "  I  urged  :  "  Fly,  Prairie  Flow 
er  !  and  do  your  best,  ere  all  is  over  !  " 

"  I  will,"  she  said;  and  at  once  hasten 
ed  back  to  the  lodge. 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


Foi  another  hour  I  paced  to  and  fro 
hnpatieutly,  ever  and  anon  turning  my 
eyes  upon  the  hut  where  the  old  man  was 
breathing  his  last.  At  length  Prairie 
Flo.ver  reappeared,  and  with  her  three  In 
dian  maidens,  all  weeping  and  seeming 
very  much  dejected.  On  leaving  the 
lodge,  each  went  separate  ways  through 
theavillage,  Prairie  Flower  approaching  me 
direct. 

"  To  prayer  !  "  she  said,  addressing  her 
friends,  who  still  remained  as  she  had  left 
them. 

All  again  kneeled  as  before.  When 
they  rose  to  their  feet,  I  addressed  her : 

"  What  news,  Prairie  Flower  ?  " 

"  He  is  sinking  very  fast,"  she  answered, 
sadly. 

"  Did  you  gain  any  information  ?  " 

"  No !  1  addressed  him  on  the  suhject, 
but  he  only  looked  at  me  vaguely,  and  did 
not  seem  to  comprehend  what  I  said." 

"  Alas  !  I  fear  it  is  too  late,  Prairie 
Flower  ! " 

"I  fear  so,"  she  rejoined.  "But  he 
may  revive  a  little  ;  and  if  he  do,  I  will 
question  him  again." 

With  this  she  returned  to  the  lodge  of 
th<  invalid,  while  I  proceeded  to  join  my 
fri<  nd,  and  inform  him  what  had  occurred. 
I  f  Hind  Huntly  as  I  had  left  him,  in  com 
pany  with  my  compapnons  d' voyage,  all 
engaged  in  an  animated  conversation. 

*'  Well,"  he  said,  as  I  entered,  "  what 
ne'^s,  Frank  ?  Something  has  happened, 
I  fcnow  by  your  sober  looks." 

.[  proceeded  to  detail  what  had  trans- 
piied,  and  the  fears  I  entertained. 

"  This  is  unfortunate,"  he  said,  when  I 
had  done  ;  "  most  unfortunate." 

The  sun  was  some  half  an  hour  above 
the  hills,  when  Prairie  Flower  again  join 
ed  us  in  haste.  Pierre,  Teddy  and  Black 
George  had  left  some  time  before,  so  that 
no  one  was  in  the  cot  but  myself  and 
friend,  and  we  were  so  deeply  engaged  in 
discussing  the  various  matters  which  had 
transpired,  as  not  to  be  aware  of  her  close 
proximity  till  she  spoke  : 

"  Where  is  this  person,"  she  asked, 
'  whom  I  resemble  ?  " 

"  I  left  her  in  Oregon  City,"  I  replied. 

"  Thai  is  fir  away,"  she  rejoined,  mu- 
angly. 

•'  But  what  success,  Prairie  Flower  ?  " 


"  Better  than  I  expected." 

"  Indeed  !     Vou  give  us  joy." 

"  As  I  observed  he  might  do,  wh^n  I 
quitted  you,"  she  answered,  "  the  old  man 
again  revived,  when  I  immediately  put  the 
question  as  to  what  he  knew  of  my  his 
tory.  He  seemed  much  surprised,  and  in 
quired  my  reasons  for  asking.  1  hurriedly 
informed  him  of  your  conjectures.  He 
listened  attentively,  and  seemed  ill  at  ease. 
He  had  promised,  he  said,  in  reply,  never 
to  divulge,  during  his  natural  life,  who  I 
was,  nor  anything  connected  with  my 
earliest  years." 

"Ha!  then  he  knows  your  history 
himself  ?  " 

"  Nay,  do  not  interrupt  me." 

"  I  crave  pardon  !     Go  on." 

"Yes,"  continued  Prairie  Flower,  "he 
said  he  knew  much  concerning  me,  but 
did  not  know  all ;  that  something  had 
whispered  him  this  information  might 
be  valuable  to  me  at  some  future  time  ; 
and  that  he  had  recorded  it  on  a  roll  of 
parchment,  which  he  had  purchased  of  a 
trader  for  the  purpose.  This  parchment, 
he  said,  was  concealed  under  a  stone  in  a 
certain  place,  which  none  but  such  as  to 
whom  he  might  reveal  the  secret,  would 
ever  be  able  to  find.  He  farther  said,  that 
if  in  truth  I  had  a  sister  and  mother  living, 
I  had  better  perhaps  seek  them  out,  and 
should  they  recognize  and  claim  me,  J 
could  then  do  as  I  saw  proper,  either  cling 
to  them  or  my  tribe  ;  that  although  I  had 
been  reared  for  the  most  part  among  In 
dians,  and  had  adopted  their  habits  and 
customs,  still  I  was  not  of  their  race — not 
of  their  blood — and  he  could  therefore 
see  nothing  unnatural  or  improper  in  my 
desiring  to  form  acquaintance  with  my  own 
kin.  But,  he  added,  lest  I  should  meet 
with  disappointment — in  my  kin,  or  those 
I  supposed  to  be  such,  not  claiming  me  on 
what  I  and  they  might  know — he  thought 
it  better  I  should  remain  ignorant  of  my 
self,  until  I  had  seen  them  face  to  face, 
when,  should  all  turn  out  as  I  desired,  it 
would  be  time  enough  to  produce  ^roof ; 
and  that  if  I  would  promise  to  go  in  quest 
of  them  before  perusing,  or  allowing  an 
other  to  peruse,  the  parchment  in  question, 
he  would  make  its  locality  known." 

"  Wlnt  a  singular  request !  "  said  I. 

"  True,"  replied  Prairie  Flower  ;  "  baft 


LEWI     L  E  0  T  I ;     OR, 


as  1  have  .--aid  before,  (rival  Medicine  is 
a  very  -singular  being,  and  an  enigma  to 
all."  " 

"And  did  you  agree  to  his  proposi 
tion  ?  " 

"1  did,  though  somewhat  reluctantly. 
But  1  knew. if  I  did  not,  that  the  secret 
would  die  with  him,  and  of  this  I  could  not 
bear  to  think." 

"  And  so  he  told  you  all  ?  " 

"He  did." 

"  And  where  is  the  parchment  con 
cealed  ?  " 

"  Nay, "  she  answered,  shaking  her 
head,  "  I  do  not  know  as  I  am  at  liberty 
to  tell." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Prairie  Flower ! 
I  certainly  had  no  right  to  question.  But 
you  will  accompany  us  to  Oregon  City  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  came  to  speak  about," 
•he  replied,  timidly.  "  You  really  think 
your  conjectures  are  right"?  " 

"  We  do,"  answered  Huntly.  "  Every 
thing  tends  to  convince  us  so.  At  tirst, 
what  was  only  a  vague  suspicion  with  us, 
has  since  grown  almost  to  a  certainty. 
Come,  go  with  us,  sweet  Prairie  Flower  ! 
Bay  you  will  go,  and  I  shall  be  happy." 

Prairie  Flower  changed  color  as  Huntly 
spoke,  and  turned  aside  her  head. 

"  And  you  will  allow  me  a  few  com 
panions  ?  "  she  timidly  inquired. 

"  As  many  as  you  please,"  returned 
Huntly,  "so  you  will  consent  to  go." 

"  But  when  do  you  start  ?  " 

"  We  will  wait  your  time." 

"My  duty,"  shs  said,  solemnly,  "is 
henceforth  by  the  side  of  Cha-cha-chee- 
kee-hobah,  till  he  take  his  departure  to  the 
land  of  eternal  rest — then  to  follow  his  re 
mains  to  the  grave — which  done,  1  shall 
soon  be  ready  to  join  you.  Adieu,  for  the 
present!  I  must  return  to  him  now." 

Saying  which,  she  quitted  the  lodge. 

"  At  last,"  said  Huntly,  turning  to  me  : 
"  At  last,  Frank,  I  have  hope.  Let  us 
forth  and  take  the  evening  air — for  strange 
thoughts  are  crowding  my  breast." 

Arm  in  arm  we  strolled  through  the  lit 
tle  village,  where  the  solemn  faces  of  all 
we  met  bespoke  the  gloom  of  mou/ning 
for  one  universally  beloved,  and  took  our 
way  down  to  the  little  streamlet,  which, 
all  unconscious  of  mortal  change,  ran 
murmuring  on  as  it  had  done  perchance 


for  ages.  All  nature  reposed  in  her  moat 
charming  beauty  of  quietude.  The  sun 
was  just  beginning  to  sink  behind  the  lofty 
mountains  to  the  westward,  and  the  last 
flood-light  of  day  made  golden  the  tiny 
waves  of  the  water,  and  began  to  hasten 
the  long  shadows,  precursors  of  diurnal 
night,  and  that  night  of  death  which  knows 
no  waking.  The  very  air  seemed  solemn, 
it  was  so  still.  Scarce  a  breath  moved, 
and  the  leaflets  hung  down  their  heads  as 
if  in  sorrow.  The  feathered  warblers, 
which  had  made  music  all  day,  were  wind 
ing  up  their  tunes  wilh  what  seemod  a 
melancholy  cadence.  A  few  night-watch 
ers  had  just  began  to  give  each  other  calls 
in  timid  tones,  as  if  half  afraid  their  voices 
were  trespassing  upon  a  scene  too  sacred. 
It  was  just  calm  enough,  and  mild  enough, 
and  lovely  enough,  and  solemn  enough,  to 
awaken  meditative  thought — that  thought 
in  which  all  the  unutterable  poetry  of  our 
nature  becomes  infused.  When  the  out 
ward  sense  bids  the  inner  tongue  speak  to 
us  in  language  which  the  enraptured  soul 
only  comprehends.  When  we  feel  a  mel 
ancholy  happiness,  and  a  desire  to  steal 
away  from  everything  living,  and  in  soli 
tude  commune  with  ourselves  and  our  God. 
When  the  natural  voice  jars  discordantly 
with  the  fa'ner  and  more  elevated  tones  of 
our  being,  proceeding  from  the  spirit-harp, 
touched  by  the  unseen  hand  of  the  ^.11- 
pervading  Deity.  When,  in  short,  we 
feel  drawn  by  an  unexplainable  sympathy 
to  a  lonely  meditation  on  things  high  and 
holy,  beyond  the  matter-of-fact  events  of 
every  day  experience.  Did  you  never  feel 
thus,  reader  ?  Did  you  never  steal  away 
from  your  daily  cares,  your  business,  your 
friends  —  from  everything  common  and 
evanescent — to  hold  a  quiet  communion 
with  your  nobler  thoughts? — and  then  trace 
those  thoughts,  as  it  were,  to  their  prime 
val  source — the  eternal  fount  of  the  Great 
All-Good?  And  are  not  such  sweet 
thoughts,  and  sweet  moments  of  happy 
rest,  in  a  life  more,  or  less  tilled  with  tur 
moil  and  pain  ?  For  myself,  I  answer  yes; 
for  I  look  upon  them  as  foretaslings  of  a 
state  of  blissful  and  eternal  beatiludt;, 
when  the  changing  circumstances  of  thw 
life  shall  trouble  us  no  more  forever. 

Thus  I  felt,  and  thus  my  friend,  on  the 
present    occasion.      Deep    thought    iriU 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST 


botli  was  too  busy  for  •words,  and  we 
gained  the  rivulet  in  silence.  Some  fifty 
yards  above  us  A\as  a  large,  flat  rock, 
ovferhanging'the  gurgling-  waters.  Toward 
this  Huntly  silently  pointed  ;  and  obeying 
the  gesture,  I  accompanied  him  thither. 
Seated  at  length  upon  it,  our  eyes  simul 
taneously  fixed  upon  the  rapid  current 
laving  ::ts  base,  and  our  ears  drank  in  its 
music,  while  the  sunlight  gradually  de 
parted  the  stream,  the  deepening  shadows 
of  night  stretched  over  us,  growing  more 

O  *     O  O 

and  more  somber,  and  the  stars  here  and 
there  began  to  peep  out  in  the  heavens, 
and  shine  brighter  and  more  bright,  till  the 
firmament  above  appeared  blazoned  with 
thousands  on  thousands  of  shining  worlds, 
the  armorial  bearings  of  the  Great  Omnip 
otent.  Still  we  sat  in  silence — now  soar 
ing  in  thought  to  another  existence — now 
dwelling  upon  the  wonders  of  nature  as  a 
complicated  whole,  or  equally  complicated, 
inexplicable  part — and  anon  reviewing  the 
past,  touching  upon  the  present,  and  leap 
ing  forward  in  imagination  to  the  future — 
that  future,  to  the  young,  of  golden  hopes 
and  bright  anticipations,  destined  for  the 
most  part  never  to  be  realized.  Thus  we 
mutely  sat,  for  an  hour  or  more,  when 
Huntly  broke  the  silence. 

"  Frank,"  he  said,  "what  a  charm,  what 
a  solemn  charm  there  seems  in  everything 
to-night !  I  have  been  musing,  as  it  were, 
apon  everything.  I  have  been  back  to 
my  boyhood  days,  when  I  was  wild,  giddy, 
reckless,  and  frolicsome.  When  I  had  no 
thought  beyond  the  sport  of  the  hour,  and 
no  ambition  but  to  make  a  jest  of  my  fel 
low  beings.  1  have  traced  up  our  youth 
ful  sports  (for  you  and  I  were  almost  one, 
you  know,)  to  that  sudden  resolve  which 
parted  me  for  the  last  time  from  my 
beloved  father." 

'  Here  his  voice  faltered  to  a  pause,  and 
for  some  moments  he  remained  silent,  with 
his  face  bowed  upon  his  hands.  Then 
raising  his  head,  he  dashed  away  a  few 
tears  and  resumed  : 

"I  have  recalled  event  after  event  to 
die  present  time,  and  find,  in  my  reckless 
career,  that  I  have  much,  too  much,  to  re 
gret,  But  I  believe  in  an  overruling, 


mysterious  Power,  and  that  there  has  been 
a  purpose  in  all  beyond  my  own  simple 
inclinations.  Adversity,  T  feel,  has  been 
for  the  best,  by  working  in  me  a  great 
change.  Yes,  Frank,  I  am  a  changed 
being.  From  boyhood  I  have  passed  to 
manhood,  and  from  ^he  idle  follies  of 
youth,  to  the  wiser  and  more  sober 
thoughts  of  maturer  age. 

"Once  I  was  all  for  adventure  and 
change — but  now  the  case  is  different.  I 
have  seen  enough,  and  am  satisfied.  Let 
me  once  more  be  comfortably  situated, 
wiih  a  home  and  friends,  means  to  gain 
an  honest  living,  and,  Frank,  one,  one 
sweet  being  to  cheer  me  with  her  smiles 
over  the  otherwise  toilsome  path  of  life — 
and  I  shall  rest  content." 

"  A  great  change  this,  in  Charles  Hunt 
ly,  most  certainly,"  I  said  ;  "  a  great 
change  indeed !  But  perhaps  no  more 
than  in  myself;  for  I,  too,  am  tired  of  ad- 
venfeure,  and  ardently  long  for  those  very 
joys,  (joys  now,  Charles,  though  once  it 
was  not  so,)  of  which  you  speak." 

"Hark  !"  exclaimed  my  friend  at  this 
moment.  "  What  sound  is  that  ?  " 

A  long,  loud,  mournful  wail  came  borne 
upon  the  air. 

"Alas!"  said  I,  "it  speaks  a  soul 
departed  ! " 

"  Let  us  return,"  said  Huntly,  with 
a  si'>-h  ;  and  forthwith  we  set  out  for  the 

O        '  . 

village. 

"  On  our  way  thither,  we  several  times 
heard  the  same  melancholy  sound  ;  and 
as  we  entered  the  precincts  of  tlu»  little 
settlement,  we  beheld  somber  figures  mov 
ing  to  and  fro,  bearing  lighted  torches. 
As  we  drew  near  the  center  lodge,  I  dis 
covered  PrHirie  Flower,  in  company  with 
several  of  her  own  sex,  moaning  with  grief. 

She  espied  us  as  we  came  up,  and,  sep 
arating  from  her  companions,  approached 
and  extended  a  hand  to  each. 

"Alas!  my  friends,"  she  sighed,  "I 
need  your  sympathy.  He  who  has  been 
to  me  a  guardian  —  a  father  —  ;s  now  no 
more." 

Her  voice  faltered  as  she  spoke,  and 
withdrawing  her  hands  from  ours,  she 
covered  her  eyes  and  wept  aloud. 


64 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

BURIAL  OF   GREAT  MEDICINE PREPARATIONS 

TO    DEPART AFFECTIONATE    LEAVE-TAK 
ING ROUTE  NORTHWARD PRAIRIE  FLOW- 

KR    IN     A      NEW     LlliHT THE      DESERTED 

VILLAGE THE    DESIGNATED    SPOT HOPES 

AND  FEARS DISAPPOINTMENT TREASURE 

FOUND STRANGE     DEPOSIT    OF     GOLD 

SPECULATIONS ON    THK    MOVE IN   SIGHT 

OF  OREGON  CITY. 

As  I  have,  in  "Prairie  Flower,"  de 
scribed  the  solemn  ceremony  by  which  the 
Mysterious  Tribe  consign  to  dust  the  mor 
tal  remains  of  such  of  their  number  as  are 
called  hence  by  death,  I  shall  not  here  re 
peat  it — presuming  that  all  who  read  the 
present  tale,  will  have  perused  the  other. 

The  second  day  from  his  death,  was  the 
one  set  apart  for  the  burial  of  the  Old- 
Man-ot'-the-Mountains.  Each  of  my  par 
ty,  and  every  one  of  the  tribe  was  present, 
and  the  funeral  rite  was  conducted  in  the 
most  solemn  manner.  As  it  had  been  the 
province  of  the  deceased  to  enact  a  pecu 
liar  part  on  all  similar  occasions,  and  as 
this  constituted  one  of  their  forms  of  wor 
ship,  it  became  necessary  for  the  tribe  to 
select  one  of  their  number  to  fill  his  place. 
The  one  chosen  for  the  office,  which  he 
was  to  hold  till  death,  was  an  old  white- 
haired  Indian,  of  benevolent  aspect,  who 
at  once  entered  upon  his  duties,  and  thence 
forth  took  the  title  of  "  Great  Medicine." 

A  grave  was  dug  in  the  valley  by  the 
Vittle  stream,  and  here  the  deceased  was 
buried,  with  all  the  mournful  honors  betit- 
ting  his  station.  Great  were  the  lamen 
tations,  and  many  the  tears  shed,  as  his 
body  was  lowered  to  his  last,  long,  nar 
row  home — the  house  appointed  for  all 
living!  When  his  remains  had  been  cov 
ered  from  the  sight  of  all,  and  the  "  Last 
Dirge  "  had  been  chanted,  several  Indian 
maidens  brought  and  strewed  Howers  over 
die  damp  earth,  and  then  repeating, 
"Sleep  in  peace,  beloved!"  each  of  the 
tribe  took  a  solemn  leave  of  the  spot,  and 
slowly  and  sadly  retraced  their  steps  to 
the  village. 


An  hour  or  two  later,  Prairie  Floww 
sought  me  out  and  said  : 

"  I  suppose,  my  friend,  you  are  anxiovn 
to  be  on  your  way  ?  " 

"Atyour  earliest  convenience,"  I  replied. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  detain  you,"  she  re- 
joined  ;  "but  if  you  can  delay  another 
day,  it  will  greatly  oblige  me,  as  I  have 
much  to  attend  to  ere  I  depart." 

"  A  day,  either  way,  will  make  but  little 
difference,"  said  I;  "and  moreover,  we 
could  not  expect  you  to  leave  sooner,  after 
what  has  occurred." 

"Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "I  will 
hasten  all  my  arrangements,  and  at  sun 
rise  to-morrow  will  be  yours  to  command ; " 
and  she  left  me  to  begin  her  preparations.' 

In  the  course  of  the  clay,  Prairie  Flow 
er  informed  the  tribe  what  had  transpired 
relative  to  herself,  and  also  her  present 
design.  The  younger  members,  who  had 
always  looked  upon  her  as  one  of  them 
selves,  were  much  surprised,  and  all  were 
very  sad  at  the  thought  of  parting  with 
one  so  dear  to  them.  They  could  not  but 
admit,  under  the  circumstances,  it  was  her 
duty  to  go  ;  but  they  made  her  promise,  in 
case  events  should  turn  up  inducing  her 
to  withdraw  from  them  altogether,  she 
would  at  least  pay  them  one  more  visit,  eie 
she  said  the  final  farewell.  She  then 
made  choice  of  three  young  men  and  two 
maidens  to  be  her  companions,  and  select 
ed  live  noble  steeds  for  them  to  ride, 
reserving  the  little  pony  to  herself. 

At  daylight  on  the  following  morning 
the  whole  village  was  astir ;  and  having 
broken  our  fast,  the  horses  were  caught 
and  saddled,  and  ere  the  sun  was  half  an 
hour  above  the  hills,  all  were  in  readinesj 
to  start.  The  parting  scene  between 
Prairie  Flower  and  her  friends  was  very 
affecting.  She  embraced  all  of  her  own 
sex — kissed  the  children  over  and  over 
again — shook  the  young  men  and  aged  by 
the  hand — and  amid  tears  at  losing  her, 
and  earnest  prayers  for  her  safety  and  hap 
piness,  sprang  on  her  pony  and  dashed 
away,  too  much  affected  to  witness  the 
separation  between  those  who  remained 
and  ihose  s? lected  to  accompany  her.  The 
i  latter  no>v  took  leave  one  by  one  :  and 
i  though  much  feeling  was  displaved  on  both 
'  sides,  yet  it  was  very  different  fioo*  th* 
(farewell  of  Prairie  Flower 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


14  My  friends,"  said  Huntly,  when  it 
wme  our  turn  to  depart,  "  for  your  kind 
ness  to  me,  I  feel  very,  very  grateful — but 
fft  present,  the  only  return  in  my  power  to 
make  is  thanks.  Should  I  ever  have  an 
opportunity  to  do  more,  you  shall  find  that 
your  labors  in  my  behalf  have  not  been 
unworthily  bestowed.  Farewell.  If  we 
meet  not  again  on  earth,  I  trust  we  may 
in  a  better  state." 

Each  of  our  party  next  proceeded  to 
nhake  hands  with  each  of  the  tribe  ;  and 
as  soon  as  this  was  over,  we  sprang  upon 
our  horses,  and,  dashing  away,  soon  joined 
those  in  advance. 

1  must  now  pass  rapidly  over  our  jour 
ney,  as  but  little  occurred  on  the  way  of 
interest  to  the  general  reader.  Our  pro 
visions  were  supplied  by  our  trusty  rifles — 
we  sometimes  killing  a  bear,  a  deer, 
and  once  or  twice  a  buffalo.  Entering  the 
beautiful  South  Park — a  kind  of  second 
Eden — we  pushed  forward,  and  on  the  se 
cond  day  reached  the  head  waters  of  the 
South  Fork  of  Platte,  down  which  stream 
we  continued  to  St.  Vrain's  Fort,  where 
we  all  arrived  without  accident.  Here  I 
took  leave  of  Pierre  and  Black  George, 
paying  them  liberally  for  their  assistance, 
and  pursued  our  journey  toward  the  Black 
Hills,  to  the  very  spot  where  I  had  first 
been  introduced  to  the  Mysterious  Tribe, 
und  where,  as  I  learned  from  Prairie 
Flower,  they  intended  making  their  winter 
quarters. 

On  our  way  thither,  Prairie  Flower 
threw  off  much  of  that  reserve  which  she 
had  hitherto  exercised  toward  Huntly  ; 
and  not  unfrequently  they  rode  on  to 
gether  for  miles,  engaged  in  earnest  con 
versation.  The  effect  of  this  upon  my 
friend  was  very  gratifying  to  me  ;  it  seemed 
to  divert  his  thoughts  from  more  painful 
subjects  ;  and  I  saw  with  pleasure  that 
his  pale,  careworn  features  gradually  re- 
cumed  their  wonted  appearance,  and  his 
eye,  especially,  its  former  luster.  Still  he 
was  sad  at  times — very  sad — and  then  I 
hnew  his  thoughts  were  dwelling  upon  the 
toss  of  his  father,  and  the  afflictions  of 
kis  mother  and  sister.  He  was  naturally 
but  little  given  to  despondency ;  and  when 
ia  company  with  myself  or  another,  ever 
«trove  to  be  cheerful,  that  he  might  not 
cause  us  the  pain  of  sympathy. 


Sometimes  I  held  long,  private  conver 
sations  with  Prairie  Flower ;  and  then  she 
would  ask  me  over  and  over  again  about 
her  supposed  sister  and  mother — whether 
I  thought  they  would  be  glad  to  own  her — 
and  more  than  once  made  me  recount  what 
little  I  knew  of  their  history.  This  was 
a  theme  of  which  she  seemed  never  to 
tire,  and  oftentimes  would  be  affected  to 
tears.  Then  she  would  tell  me  how  she 
had  mused  over  herself,  and  wondered  who 
she  was — whether  she  had  a  mother  liv 
ing — and  if  so,  whether  that  mother  ever 
thought  of  her.  Sometimes  she,  had  fan 
cied  herself  ignobly  born  —  that  she  had 
been  cast  off  in  infancy  —  and  then  she 
had  gone  away  by  herself  and  wept  bitter 
tears,  and  had  prayed  ardently  that  she 
might  be  resigned  to  her  fate.  She  loved 
the  Indians  —  among  whom,  at  an  early 
•Age,  her  lot  had  been  cast  —  to  her  they 
were  as  brothers  and  sisters ;  but  still  the 
knowledge  that  she  was  not  of  their  race — 
a  secret  yearning  for  the  fond  look  and 
tender  tone  of  a  mother — had  troubled  her 
sorely;  and  nothing  but  the  consolation  of 
religion,  and  the  hope  of  at  least  meeting 
her  relatives  in  a  better  world,  had  sup 
ported  her  through  her  lonely  trials. 

Until  I  heard  this  from  the  lips  of  Prai 
rie  Flower,  I  had  no  idea  such  was  the 
case,  and  had  believed  her  contented  and 
happy  in  the  position  where  Providence 
had  placed  her.  as  had  all  who  knew  her. 
But  they,  as  well  as  I,  had  overlooked, 
that  where  mystery  clouds  the  birth  of  an 
individual,  the  thought  of  this  to  a  sensi 
tive,  intelligent  mind — his  or  her  specula 
tions  upon  it — the  want  of,  the  yearninq 
for,  more  knowledge — must  at  times  ren 
der  such,  no  matter  what  the  outward 
seeming,  very  unhappy.  It  was  this  very 
thing,  perhaps,  which  had  made  Prairie 
Flower  so  distant  toward  my  friend,  whom 
she  loved,  as  I  knew,  with  a  passion  pure 
and  holy.  She  had  thought  herself  unfit 
to  be  his  companion,  and  had  nobly  strug 
gled  to  undo  what  nature  had  done  —  and 
oh  !  what  a  hopeless  and  painful  struggle 
it  had  been  !  —  what  an  iron  resolution  i( 
had  required  to  carry  it  out !  —  and  hoi» 
many  sleepless  nights  and  miserable  days 
it  must  have  cost  her ! 

At  last  we  reached  the  village,  whereto, 
some  three  years  before,  I  had  been  born* 


5(3 


LENI    LEOT1;    OR, 


from  the  field  of  battle  in  an  unconscious 
state.  What  singular  associations  the 
sight  of  it  revived  !  and  how  mournful  its 
present  aspect !  It  was  deserted,  and  si 
lent;  and  though  most  of  its  rude  tene 
ments  were  still  standing,  yet  their  half 
dilapidated  appearance,  and  the  general 
KIT  of  long  desertion  and  decay  every 
where  visible,  brought  to  mind  Goldsmith's 
unrivaled  and  beautiful  poem  of  the  "  De 
serted  Village."  We  rode  through  the 
little  town  in  silence,  noting  each  thing 
ns  we  passed — and  when  we  had  got  be 
yond  it,  Prairie  Flower  turned,  gazed  back, 
sighed  deeply,  wiped  a  few  tears  from  her 
eyes,  and  then  urged  her  little  pony  forward 
at  a  rapid  pace. 

A  ride  of  half  a  mile  brought  us  to  a 
huge  old  tree,  with  a  hollow  trunk,  when 
Prairie  Flower  came  to  a  halt  and  said  : 

"  My  friends,  this  is  the  spot  designated 
by  Great  Medicine,  as  the  one  where  I 
should  find  a  treasure  to  me  more  valuable 
than  a  mine  cf  gold.  Beneath  that  stone 
lies  all  or  nothing.  Oil !  how  I  tremble, 
lest  it  prove  the  latter.  Heaven,  grant  I 
find  what  I  seek  !  " 

"  Amen  to  that!"  responded  I ;  and  the 
whole  party  dismounted. 

Leading  the  way,  Prairie  Flower  passed 
the  tree  a  few  feet,  and  rested  her  delicate 
foot  upon  a  stone  of  singular  appeu1  ance. 

"  Here  !  "  she  almost  gasped,  while  her 
features  grew  deadly  pale  with  excitement, 
and  her  frame  shook  nervously  :  "  Here  !  " 
and  she  pointed  down  with  her  finger,  but 
could  say  no  more. 

Forming  a  circle  around  the  stone,  we 
all  gazed  upon  it  a  moment  in  silence,  and 
then  addressing  Huntly  : 

"Come,  my  friend,"  I  said,  "let  us 
raise  it." 

Stooping  down,  we  applied  all  our 
strength  to  it  in  vain. 

"It  seems  bedded  m  the  earth  by 
nature,"  said  Huntly. 

"  Oh,  no  !  say  not  that !  "  cried  Prairie 
Flower  in  alarm.  "  Say  not  that,  I  beg 
of  you !  This  is  the  spot  described  to  me 
by  the  Old-Man-of-the- Mountains.  I  have 
thought  of  it  by  day — dreamed  of  it  by 
night.  I  here  have  rested  hopes  of  which 
you  little  think.  Hopes,  whose  realiza 
tion  may  render  me  the  most  happy,  as 
disappointment  would  the  most  miserable 


being  on  earth.  If  I  have  made  H  mis 
take,  it  is  a  fatal  one.  A  mistakt 

But  no  !  no !  it  must  not — must  not  be  ! 
Help,  here,  some  of  you  !  "  she  added,  ad 
dressing  the  others.  "  Be  quick  !  and  do 
not  keep  me  in  this  torturing  suspense  !  '* 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  almost  incoherent 
ly,  and  her  manner  was  very  wild.  At 
she  concluded,  :;he  clasped  her  hands  and 
gazed  down  upon  the  rock  with  A  look  I 
shall  never  forget.  It  was  the  agonized 
concentration  of  hope  and  fear.  As  if,  in 
truth,  she  feared  herself  about  to  lose  the 
only  friend  she  had  on  earth.  Instantly 
Teddy  and  one  ol'  the  Indians  laid  hold 
with  us,  and  our  united  efforts  moved  the 
stone  from  its  foundation.  All  pressed 
forward,  and  eagerly  gazed  into  the  aper 
ture.  Nothing  was  there,  apparently,  but 
smooth,  solid  earth.  Fora  moment,  Prai 
rie  Flower  stood  stupefied  with  amazement 
j  and  despair.  Then  burying  her  face  in 
her  hands,  she  sank  down  upon  the  earth, 
without  uttering  a  syllable. 

"Do  not  despair !"  cried  I ;  and  bending 
down,  I  felt  the  earth  with  my  hand. 

It  was  soft,  n.s  if  it  had  once  been  re 
moved.  I  hastily  -Jug  down  a  few  inches, 
and  my  hand  touched  a  solid  substance. 
Brushing  away  the  dirt  rap:uiiy,  I  discov 
ered  to  my  unspeakable  delight,  a  small 
wooden  box. 

"  'Tis  here  !  "  thouted  I,  "  'tis  here  !  " 
and  the  next  moment  I  had  torn  it  from 
the  ground,  and  stood  triumphantly  holding 
|  it  aloft. 

My  words  roused  Prairie  Flower,  who 
started  to  her  feet  with  a  scream,  caughl 
the  box  from  my  hand,  pressed  it  eagerly 
to  her  lips  and  hcaU,  and  then  paced  to 
and  fro,  in  an  indcsciibable  delirium  of  de 
light.  At  length  she  became  more  calm, 
I  and  turning  to  the  vest  of  us,  who  stood 

I  looking  on  in  silence,  she  said,  in  one  oJ 
i 
her  sweetest  tones : 

"My  friends,  you  must  excuse  me! — 
but  oh  !  you  know  not,  cannot  know,  my 
feelings  for  the  last  five  minutes." 

"  We  can  at  leas  t  imagine  them,"  re 
turned  I  ;  "  and  certainly  there  is  noapol 
ogy  needed.  We  are  only  too  happy  i» 
discovering  the  treasure." 

"  Ay,  treasure  indeed  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
holding  the  box  from  her,  and  gazing  upon 
it  with  a  singular  expression.  "  Ha  ! ' 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


•hr  added,  "hero  is  something  written  on 
ttv  outside  ;  "  and  examining  it  a.  moment, 
tihe  added.  "It  is  the  language  of  the 
Wys  i']-ious  Tribe,  and  translated,  reads, 
'  Seek  /riu'Ci  !  ' ' 

'•  That  implies  something  still  below," 
observe-. I  Iluntly  ;  and  stooping  down,  he 
thrust  his  hand  into  the  loose  earth,  and 
prrsi'iulv  drew  forth  a  lump  of  pure  gold, 
ivi-ighlng  some  three  or  four  pounds. 

(ji-faf  was  our  astonishment  on  behold 
ing  this; 'but  it  was  increased  the  next 
moment  by  my  friend  bringing  up  two 
more  of  nearly  equal  size  and  value. 
These  lumps  had  no  particular  shape,  and 
had  the  appearance  of  being  broken  oft' 
from  a  larger  substance. 

"This  is  strange!"  remarked  Prairie 
Flower,  as  we  all  stood  examining  them  ; 
"  iind  where  could  Great  Medicine  have 
procured  them  ?  There  is  no  gold  in  these 
mountains,  that  I  am  aware  of — and  yet 
this  seems  fresh  taken  from  a  mine.  And, 
by-the-way,  this  reminds  me  that  Great 
Medicine  was  always  well  supplied  with 
gold,  though  where  it  came  from  was  al 
ways  a  mystery  to  the  rest  of  the  tribe. 
And  see  !  "  she  added,  giving  one  of  the 
pieces  a  close  scrutiny  :  "See  !  here  is  my 
Indian  name,  Leni  Leoti,  scratched  upon 
It  with  some  sharp  instrument." 

"  And  on  this,"  said  Huntly,  holding 
up  another. 

"  And  on  this,"  repeated  I,  turning  over 
die  third. 

"  They  wore  intended  for  you,  Prairie 
Flower,"  observed  Iluntly,  addressing  her ; 
"  and  together  form  no  mean  gift." 

"  He  was  always  kind  to  me,  and  I  loved 
him,"  rejoined  Prairie  Flower,  artlessly, 
her  eyes  tilling  with  tears. 

"  But  where  could  so  much  gold,  in  this 
rough  state,  have  been  obtained?"  asked 
Huntly,  turning  to  me. 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  through  my 
mind,  and  I  turned  to  Prairie  Flower. 

"  Was  Great  Medicine  ever  much 
abroad?" 

"  Never  far  from  the  tribe,  since  I  first 
knew  him,"  was  her  answer. 

"  But  the  tribe  has  been  roving  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  have  seldom  spent  a  year  at 
%  time  in  one  place." 

"  Were  you  ever  in  California  ?  " 

"  One  season  we  quartered  on  a   beau 


tiful   oasis   in   the    Great   Desert,  as   we 
termed  it." 

"  Ha  !  then  there  is  some  grounds  for 
my  conjecture  ;  "  and  taking  Iluntly  aside, 
I  recalled  to  his  mind  the  shiny  sand  we 
had  there  gathered,  and  added  :  "  I  think 
we  were  right  in  our  surmises  of  its  being 
gold  !  " 

"  True,"  he  answered,  with  a  start ;  "  I 
remember  now,  though  I  had  completely 
forgotten  the  circumstance." 

"  And  so  had  I,  till  this  revived  it." 

""  Have  you  any  of  that  sand  with  you, 
Frank  ?  " 

"  I  have  not.  Our  subsequent  perils 
drove  the  matter  from  my  mind  ;  and  if 
any  remained  on  my  person  when  we  ar 
rived  at  Sutler's,  it  was  thrown  away 
with  the  tattered  garments  that  contained 
it." 

"Well,  let  it  go!"  rejoined  Huntly, 
musingly;  "let  it  go!  There  is  gold 
there,  without  doubt  —  and  some  day  it 
will  doubtless  be  the  means  of  great 
speculation." 

"  This  being  the  case,  my  friend,  sup 
pose  we  make  another  tour,  and  ascertain 
for  a  certainty  ?  If  true,  our  fortune  ia 
made.' 

Huntly  looked  at  me  seriously  for  t» 
moment,  with  a  very  peculiar  expressiot 
of  countenance,  and  then  rejoined,  in  ? 
decisive  tone  : 

"  No,  Frank  !  not  even  a  mine  of  gold 
would  tempt  me  to  encounter  the  perils  ol 
such  a  journey  again.  Suppose  I  prove 
successful  and  make  a  fortune  —  what 
then  ?  What  is  wealth,  after  all.  that  man 
should  make  himself  a  slave  ?  'Tis  here 
— 'tis  there — 'tis  gone.  Look  at  my  la 
mented  father,  for  example  !  One  day  he 
could  count  his  thousands  —  the  next  he 
was  a  beggar;  and  the  grave  soon  followed 
to  cover  a  broken  heart.  Fortune  is  not 
happiness  —  therefore  I'll  pay  no  court  to 
the  truant  jade.  Let  those  have  wealth 
who  crave  it ;  let  them  worship  the  golden 
Mammon ;  for  myself,  let  me  be  happy 
with  little,  and  I  ask  no  more.  But,  come  ! 
I  see  Prairie  Flower  and  the  rest  are  wait 
ing  us,  and  we  must  be  on  the  move." 

Joining  the  others,  we  made  further 
search,  but  finding  nothing  new,  we  all 
mounted  our  horses  and  set  forward  — 
Prairie  Flower  in  better  spirits  than  1  had 


68 


LENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


ever  seen  her.  Though  in  possession  of 
the  box  supposed  to  contain  all  she  desired, 
yet  she  absolutely  refused  to  open  it,  lest 
she  might  be  tempted  to  an  examination  of 
its  contents,  and  thus  break  her  promise  to 
the  dying  old  man. 

Summer  had  already  passed,  and  the 
mortal  stroke  of  old  Autumn  was  even 
now  beginning  to  be  felt  on  the  mountains. 
The  trees,  which  had  waved  their  green 
leaves  as  an  accompaniment  to  the'  music 
of  the  forest  choir,  were  already  changing 
color,  as  if  in  dread  of  the  steady,  onward 
strides  of  their  annual,  but  ever-conquering 
foe.  The  iirst  process  of  decay  had  begun 

—  but  so  beautiful,  that  one  as  he  gazed 
upon  it,  though  it  awakened  a  solemn,  al 
most  melancholy  train  of  thought,  could 
hardly  wish  it  otherwise.     As  we  ascended 
.he  mountains  higher  and  more  high,  the 
$cene  below  us  became  enchanting  in  its 
variety.      Far,   far  away,  for  miles  upon 
miles,  the  eye  roved  over  hill   and  plain, 
while  the  soul,  as  it  were,    drank  in  the 
rery    essence    of    nature's   beauty.     The 
atmosphere  was  cool  and  clear,   and  the 
sun    brilliant,  but   not    warm.     In    every 
direction  there  was  something  new  for  the 
eye  to  rest  upon  —  something  new  for  the 
mind  to  ponder.     I  beheld  distant  mount 
ains   rising   to   the   very  skies  —  isolated, 
glistening  and  cold  in  their  lonely  grandeur 

—  jis  one  who  has  ventured  to  the  topmost 
round    of   Ambition's  ladder,   and  scorns 
in  his  elevation  all  meaner  objects  grovel 
ling  in  the  dust  below.     I  beheld  lovely 
valleys,  as  yet  untouched  by  the  destroyer, 
still    bright   in    their   summer   garments, 
through   which    purled  silvery  streams  — 
the  former  doomed  ere  long  to  put  on  the 
withered    shreds    of    mourning,    and    the 
latter  to  cease   their  murmurs  in  the  icy 
fetters  of  the  advancing  Winter-King.     In 
short,  I  beheld  hills,  and  dales,  and  for 
ests,  and  rolling  prairies,  and  rivers,  and 
rivulets  —  all    spread    before    me    in  pic 
turesque  succession  —  and  all  more  or  less 
variegated  with  the  many-hued  m.mtle  of 
autumn.    The  scene  was  enchanting  ;  and, 
as  Prairie  Flower,  who  with  my  friend  had 
also  been  silently  surveying  it,  observed 
with  a  sigh : 

"Most  melancholy  beautiful." 
But  lovely  as  was  the  view,  I  had  but 
little  time  for  con'emplation  ;  for  the  Ion 


journey  before  us,  and  the  lateness  of  tlic 
season,  required  us  to  hasten  forward,  thai 
we  might  pass  the  mountains  before  the 

nowstorms  and  ice  of  winter  should  com 
pletely  bar  our  way.  We  had  yet  some 
thirteen  hundred  miles  to  travel,  and,  with 
everything  favorable,  could  not  hope  to 
reach  our  destination  in  less  than  five  01 

ix  weeks.  Fortunately  our  animals  were 
in  good  order  —  lightly  laden --with  no 
troublesome  vehicles  creaking  and  rum 
bling  after,  to  delay  us  with  bad  roads  anil 
breaking  accidents. 

Leaving  Laramie  Peak  to  our  right,  we 
struck  across  the  Laramie  Plains  to  the 
Sweet  Water  Mountains,  and  thence  de 
scended  to  the  great  Oregon  trail,  crossing 
the  Rocky  Mountains  at  the  well-known 
South  Pass.  For  the  rest  of  the  distance, 
our  road  was  to  some  extent  a  traveled 
one,  and  our  progress,  with  some  litte 
delays  very  rapid.  As  nothing  of  unusual 
interest  occurred  on  the  route,  I  shall  pats 
it  over  without  a  record. 

On  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  No 
vember,  1343,  we  came  in  sight  of  tl.« 
lights  of  Oregon  City,  which  we  hailid 
with  three  dealeanx;:  cheers. 


CHAPTER     XV. 

ARRIVE  AT  MRS.  HUNTLV's PAINFUL  SUR 
MISES  THE  WELCOME  VOICE MEETII'O 

OF  LOVERS OF  BROTHER  AND  SISTER 

OF   MOTHER   AND   SON TIDINUS  OF   MT 

FRIEND'S    CAPTIVITY  —  ITS  EFFECT   UPO» 

THE  HEARERS TALE  OF  MY  ADVENTURES 

PRAIRIE  FLOWER  DESCRIBED AFFEC 
TIONATE  CURIOSITY  —  LILIAN'S  ENTHU 
SIASM  FOR  EVA VARIOUS  MATTER* 

DISCUSSED A   HAPPY  NIGHT. 

To  describe  my  feelings  and  those  of 
Huntly,  when  we  halted  within  view  of 
the  dwellings  containing  those  around  th*. 
very  tendrils  of  whose  hearts  our  own 
were  entwined  —  on  whose  happiness  or 
misery  our  own  were  depending  —  would 
be  impossible ;  and  therefore  J  *ha)l  not 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST 


attempt  it.  The  day's  journey  had  been 
very  severe  —  for  we  had  all  ridden  hard, 
in  order  if  possible  to  reach  the  village 
before  nightfall.  In  this  we  had  not  suc 
ceeded  ;  but  knowing  we  were  near,  we 
still  pressed  forward  after  night  set  in,  and 
by  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  had  come 
in  sight  of  the  glimmering  lights,  as  shown 
in  the  last  chapter. 

We  now  held  a  short  consultation,  which 
resulted  in  Huntly,  Teddy  and  myself  re 
solving  to  go  forward,  while  Prairie  Flower 
and  her  companions  should  encamp  and 
remain  where  thev  were  through  the  night. 

*  O  f   O 

Our  object  in  this  was  to  see  our  friends 
alone,  and  prepare  them  to  receive  our 
fair  benefactress,  whom  we  intended  to 
introduce  as  an  Indian  maiden,  and  then 
leave  matters  to  take  their  own  course. 

Having  at  length  arranged  everything 
to  our  satisfaction,  we  rode  forward,  and 
•n  less  than  half  an  hour  drew  rein  near 
the  humble  cottage  of  Mrs.  Huntly. 

"  And  is  it  here,"  said  Charles,  as  he 
gazed  with  a  sigh  upon  the  rude  edifice  : 
"  And  is  it  here  I  again  meet  my  dear 
mother  and  sister  ?  Alas  !  Frank,  there 
Is  a  change  indeed  in  our  fortune  !  and 
uow  I  feel  it." 

"  Repine  not,"  returned  I ;  "  but  rather 
thank  God  you  are  safe,  and  look  forward 
to  better  days  !  " 

"I  will  not  repine,"  he  said.  "But, 
Frank,  there  is  such  an  air  of  poverty 
here,  I  could  not  avoid  giving  vent  to  my 
thoughts." 

As  we  spoke  we  dismounted,  and  giving 
our  horses  in  charge  of  Teddy — with  or 
ders  to  take  good  care  of  them,  and  seek 
another  place  of  rest  for  himself,  —  we 
approached  the  door  with  trembling  steps, 
and  with  conflicting  feeling?;  of  hope  and 
fear.  What  if  something  had  happened, 
nud  we  should  find  a  stranger  in  place 
ot  those  we  sought !  But  no !  no  !  we 
would  not  harbor  such  a  thought — would 
look  to  clasp  our  friends  to  our  beating 
hearts  ! 

The  house  was  tightly  closed,  but  not 
uninhabited,  as  we  could  see  by  the  light 
which  here  and  there  shone  through  a 
crevice. 

,  "  Go  forward  !  "  whispered  Huntly  ;  and 
I  advanced  and  rapped  timidly  on  the 
rough  door  with  my  knuckles. 


To  this  there  came  no  answei.  and  J 
repeated  it,  but  harder  and  louder. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  said  a  soft  voice  from 
within. 

Gracious  heavens  !  how  its  tones  thrilled 
me  !  I  knew  it !  I  would  have  known  it 
among  a  million  !  It  was  the  voice  of  my 
own  beloved  Lilian  ! 

"  A  friend,"  answered  I,  as  with  one 
hand  I  grasped  the  arm  of  Charles,  who 
was  now  trembling  with  agitation. 

"  Pardon  me  !  "  answered  Lilian  ;  "  but 
will  you  give  me  your  name — as  it  is  al 
ready  somewhat  late,  and  there  is  no  one 
within  but  mother  and  myself." 

"  And  do  you  not  know  me,  Lilian  ?  " 

"  That  voice  !"  I  heard  her  exclaim; 
"  that  voice  !  "  and  the  next  moment  there 
was  an  agitated  rattling  at  the  door,  which 
instantly  swung  open,  and  revealed  the  idol 
of  my  thoughts  standing  before  me,  pale 
and  trembling. 

"  Lilian  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  thank  God 
we  meet  again  !  "  and  in  an  instant  she 
was  folded  in  my  embrace  and  weeping 
with  joy. 

"  0,"  she  ejaculated,  looking  up  affec 
tionately  into  my  face  :  "  0,  Francis,  this 
is  more  than  I  have  prayed  for  —  more 
than  I  expected :  I  did  not  look  for  you 
this  season.  But,  ha  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as 
the  shadow  of  her  brother,  who  had  stolen 
in  behind  her  unperceived,  fell  upon  her 
vision — "we  are  not  alone  —  who  have 
we  here  ?  " 

She  turned  suddenly  round,  and  her 
eyes  met  the  tearful  ones  of  Charles,  as, 
with  outstretched  arms,  he  stood  ready  to 
receive  her,  too  much  affected  to  utter  » 
syllable. 

For  a  brief  moment  she  remained  speech 
less  and  motionless,  as  if  fearing  to  believe 
her  senses  ;  and  then  gasping  "  My  bro 
ther  !  "  she  staggered  forward  and  sank 
fainting  upon  his  breast. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Huntly,  who  had 
been  on  the  point  of  retiring,  but  had  been 
deterred  by  the  sound  of  voices,  entered 
the  room  from  an  adjoining  apartment. 

"  Who  have  we  here  ?  "  she  said,  as  sh« 
advanced  toward  us,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other  inquiringly,  but  unable  from  th« 
position  of  the  light  to  see  our  feature* 
"  Francis  !  "  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  as  1 
took  a  step  forward  ;  "  Francis,  my  son  , 


70 


LENT    LfcU'M;    Oh., 


do  I  indeed  see  thco  again  !  "  and  ere  the 
words  were  concluded,  I  found  myself 
closed  in  a  motherly  embrace.  "  This 
is  indeed  a  happy  surprise  ! "  she  added, 
warmly. 

"  But  there,"  returned  I,  pointing  to 
Charles,  who,  still  straining  Lilian  to  his 
breast,  was  nov  gazing  upon  his  mother 
with  that  singular  expression  of  intense 
joy,  which  the  imprisoned  soul,  struggling 
as  k  were  for  release,  and  choking  all  utter 
ance,  stamps  upon  every  feature  :  "There," 
said  I,  "a  more  happy  surprise  awaits 
you  ; "  and  springing  forward,  I  took  the 
half  unconscious  form  of  Lilian  from  the 
arms  of  my  friend. 

For  A  moment  mother  and  son  stood  face 
to  face,  gazing  upon  each  other,  completely 
overpowered  by  their  feelings. 

"  Mother  !  "  at  length  burst  from  the 
lips  of  Charles. 

"  My  son  !  "  and  staggering  forward, 
they  fell  upon  each  other's  neck,  and  gave 
their  overcharged  souls  vent  in  tears  and 
sighs. 

For  sometime  no  one  spoke  ;  then  rais 
ing  her  tearful  eyes  to  Heaven,  and  in  a 
voice  of  deep  solemnity,  Mrs.  Huntly  ejac 
ulated  : 

"  Almighty  God  !  I  thank  thee  for  this 
moment  of  unclouded  happiness — for  re 
storing  the  wanderer  safe  to  the  only  parent 
he  has  on  earth  !" 

"Ay,  the  only  parent,"  added  Charles, 
with  a  fresh  burst  of  emotion  ;  "  the  only 
one,  dear  mother  My  father — alas  !  mv 
father !  " 

He  paused,  overcome  by  his  feelings. 

But  I  will  not  prolong  the  affecting 
ccene.  .Suffice,  that  for  more  than  an 
hour  very  little  was  said,  except  in  the 
way  of  thanks  to  the  Supreme  Ruler  for 
bringing  us  all  safely  together  once  more. 
And  well  might  we  be  thankful  to  that 
watchful  Providence,  which  had  slumbered 
not  in  the  hours  of  grief  and  danger, 
and  had  brought  us  all  our,  as  it  were, 
from  the  very  "  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death." 

The  first  transports  of  joy  over,  we 
gradually  grew  calm  ;  and  having  formed 
a  small  circle  before  the  cheerful  fire  : 

"Now,"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  "let  me 
bear  something  of  my  friends  in  Boston." 

"Alas'."  sighe'1  \,  my  mind  reverting 


at  once  to  my  own  parents,  "  I  can 
you  no  news  in  that  quarter." 

"  And  have  you  not  been  home  ?"  she 
asked  in  surprise. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Then  you  met  Charles  on  the  way, 
and  he  perhaps  can  tell  me  ? "  and  sh« 
turned  to  him  inquiringly. 

•'  Nay,  mother,"  he  answered  sadly,  *  1 
have  not  seen  the  land  of  my  nativity 
since  I  there  parted  from  you." 

"  Why,  what  means  this?  "  she  asked 
turning  to  me. 

"  Pardon  me,"  I  said  in  some  embar 
rassment,  "  if  I  once  deceived  you  both  I 
— but  I  did  it  for  the  best." 

"  Deceived  us!"  exclaimed  both  Lilian 
and  her  mother  in  a  breath.  "  Pray  ex 
plain  yourself,  Francis  !  "  added  the  latter. 

"  You  remember  I  told  you  that  when 
I  parted  with  Charles,  he  was  goino-  east 
ward  ?  " 

"Well!  well!" 

."  But  I  did  not  ruld,  it  was  only  intend 
ed  as  a  parting  of  a  few  minutes,  and  Uv-i'. 
when  I  met  you  on  the  mountains,  1 
believed  him  lost  to  us  all  forever." 

"Lost?"  screamed  Mrs.  Huntly. 

"  Lost  ?  "  echoed  Lilian. 

"  Lost  ! "  rejoined  I.  "Ay,  lost  indeed 
— for  I  believed  him  dead." 

"  O,  speak,  Francis  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Huntly,  greatly  agitated,  and  looking  from 
me  to  Charles,  and  from  Charles  to  me  : 
"Speak,  Francis,  and  tell  us  what  yon 
mean  !  " 

"  Charles,"  I  returned,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  band  of 
guerrillas  ;  but  I  —  I  —  believed  him  doad 
—  for  no  trace  of  him  could  be  found." 

"  A  prisoner !  You,  Charles,  mv  son, 
a  prisoner  ?  "  cried  his  mother  ;  and  again 
throwing  herself  upon  his  neck,  she  burst 
into  tears  ;  while  Lilian,  gliding  up  to  his 
side,  took  his  hand  in  silence,  and  gazed 
mournfully  upon  him  with  swimming  eyes, 

"  Is  it  so,  Charles  t"  asked  his  mother. 
"Is  it  so?  Have  you  indeed  bern  ru 
captivity  ?  " 

"I  have,  dear  mother,  1  have!'*  h« 
answered  in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion. 

Drawing  back,  Mrs.  Huntly  gazed  upon 
him  with  a  look  of  unutterable  fondnesa 
and  affection,  and  then  turning  to  me,  said 
somewhat  coldly  : 


ADVENTURES     IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


71 


"  Francis,  how  could  you  deceive  trie  ! 
*  did  not  thiuk  this  of  you." 

I  w:is  about  to  reply,  when  Lilian  turned 
quickly  round  and  confronted  her  mother  : 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  "  do  not  speak  in 
that  manner.  If  Francis  did  not  tell  us 


"  Yes,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Huntly,  "  I  am 
all  anxiety  to  hear  the  story." 

"Who  shall  tell  it?"  asked  I. 

"You,  Frank,"  answered  Charles.  "You 
can  tell  it  better  than  I." 

The    tale  I  told :    beginning  with  the 


all,  it  was  because  he  feared  to  wound  our  \  loss  of  my  friend  at  Pueblo  de  los  Ange- 
feelings —  to  give  us  unnecessary  pain.  I  los,  and  its  subsequent  effect  upon  me,  up 
Was  it  not  so?"  she  asked,  appealing  to  to  the  time  when  I  met  with  his  mother 


me  with  her  soft  blue  eyes. 

"  It  was  ! ''  I  exclaimed,  struggling  to 
command  my  foelings.  "  It  was,  dear  Li 
lian — God  bless  you  for  an  angel — it  was  !  " 
I  crave  parr"on  !  "  said  Mrs.  Hutitly, 


takin< 


hand 


I  did  not  intend  to 


wound  your  feelings,  Francis,  and  sincerely 
believe  you  did  al'  for  the  best.  But  the 
suddenness  of  the  news  —  the  shock  — 
surprised  and  alarmed  me,  and  I  did  not 
heed  what  I  said,  t  now  know  it  was  all 
for  the  best ;  for  had  I  known  Charles 
was  lost.  I  fear  the  result  might  have  been 
fatal.  Thank  God,"  she  continued,  turn 
ing  again  to  her  son  :  "  Thank  God,  you 
are  safe  before  me  now  !  0,  Charles,  my 
son,"  she  added,  covering  her  eyes  with 
her  hands  to  conceal  her  emotion,  "you 
must  never,  never  leave  me  again." 

"  Never,  mother,"  he  answered  solemn 
ly,  "  till  we  are  parted  by  death." 

"And  this,"  said  Lilian,  turning  fondly 
io  me,  "is  why  you  became  so  agitated 
whenever  I  mentioned  my  brother.  I  un 
derstand  all  now.  And  this,  too,  is  the 
cause  of  your  abrupt  departure,  which  has 
ever  appeared  so  singular  to  me,  and  over 
which  Eva  and  I  have  speculated  many  an 
hour,  without  solving  the  problem." 


so 


•'  And  did  my  departure  indeed  appear 
singular,  sweet  Lilian  ?"  I  inquired  in 


surprise.  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  was  going 
to  seek  your  brother?" 

"  Ay  !  but  you  forget  you  did  not  tell 
me  he  was  lost — and  we,  you  know,  sup 
posed  him  in  Boston,  There  was  nothing 
so  remarkable  in  your  going  to  meet  him, 
ns  in  the  hurried  manner  which  you  de 
parted  without  any  previous  notice,  as  if 
you  had  heard  bad  tidings.  It  was  this 
that  put  us  to  conjecture." 

*'  True,  I  did  overlook  that." 

•¥  Well,  well,  dear  Francis,  never  mind  ; 
you  are  here  again  ;  and  now  we  must 
hear  the  tale  of  your  adventures,  and  how 
you  found  Charles  " 


and  sister  near  the  South  Pass  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  I  then  narrated  my  last  ad 
venture,  and  gave  a  brief  description  of 
the  scenes  already  laid  before  the  reader, 
and  how  I  had,  little  by  little,  traced 
Charles  to  the  very  spot  of  his  captivity, 
only  to  find  that  another  had  released  him. 
This  led  me  to  Prairie  Flower,  whom  I  de 
scribed  as  a  beautiful  being,  and  as  good 
as  she  was  beautiful.  I  described  our  tirst 
meeting  with  her  and  her  tribe,  and  some 
thing  of  their  manners  and  customs,  and 
recalled  to  mind  how  she  had,  at  the  risk 
of  her  life,  appeared  to  warn  the  emigrants, 
on  that  memorable  night  before  they 
crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  then  re 
verted  to  Charles,  and  how  I  had  found 
him  in  company  with  the  tribe.  In  fact, 
I  gave  an  outline  of  all  the  principal  inci 
dents  of  interest,  carefully  avoiding  any  allu 
sion  to  the  attachment  existing  between  my 
friend  and  Prairie  Flower,  as  also  that  we 
had  any  suspicions  as  to  who  the  latter 
might  be,  or  that  she  had  accompanied  us 
on  our  last  journey. 

During  the  recital,  both  Mrs.  Huntly 
and  Lilian  listened  eagerly,  occasionally 
interrupting  me  with  some  question  or  ex 
clamation,  when  the  incidents  detailed 
were  unusually  exciting.  In  fact,  when 
ever  I  described  a  scene  of  danger  to  my 
self,  Lilian  would  press  close  to  my  side, 
and  gaze  up  into  my  face,  pale  and  breath 
less,  sometimes  shuddering  at  the  picture 
called  up  in  her  mind,  and  seem  to  hang 
upon  my  words  as  intensely  as  though 
they  were  actually  imparting  life  or  death 
to  him  she  loved.  Nay,  more  than  this : 
On  several  occasions  did  she  become  so 
lost  in  the  thrilling  tale,  as  to  utter  .excla 
mations  of  horror ;  and  then,  remember 
ing  where  she  was,  she  would  clasp  mv 
hand  with  a  hearty  pressure,  and  in  a  low 
voice  thank  God  for  my  deliverance  and 
present  safety. 

And  where   is  this   beautiful  Indian 


L  E  M  I     LEOT1;     OK, 


maiden  ? ''  she  asked  when  I  had  done. 
"What  a  singular  being!  0,  I  should 
love  her  Bo  !  for  her  goodness,  and  her 
kindness  to  those  so  dear  to  me." 

"  Ay,  Lilian,  you  would  indeed  love 
her,"  I  answered  ;  "for  she  is  one  of  the 
sweetest  beings  you  ever  knew." 

"  Always  excepting  Eva,"  she  rejoined, 
playfully. 

"  Nay,  Lilian,  1  will  except  no  one  but 
your  own  sweet  self." 

She  blushed,  and  smiled,  and  added  : 

"  You  are  too  complimentary." 

"  But  what  has  become  of  this  Prairie 
Flower  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Huntly.  "You 
did  not  tell  us  where  you  had  left  her." 

"  And  what  if  I  should  say  she  is  near 
at  hand?" 

"  Near  at  hand  !  "  repeated  Lilian. 

"  Explain,  Fiancis ! "  added  Mrs.  Huntly. 

"  She  crossed  the  mountains  with  us." 

"  Indeed  !  and  where  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  Within  sight  of  the  lights,  of  this 
great  city." 

"  Is  it  possible  !  And  why  did  you  not 
bring  her  here  at  once  ?  " 

"Why,  it  was  already  late  ;  and  as  she 
has  several  companions  with  her,  we 
tuoughl  it  better  tor  the  party  to  encamp 
and  remain  till  morning,  while  we  went 
forward  and  prepared  you  to  receive 
them." 

"  0,  I  am  so  anxious  to  see  her  !  "  re 
joined  Lilian  ;  "  and  so  will  Eva  be,  when 
she  hears  of  her.  While  she  remains  with 
us,  we  will  treat  her  as  a  sister." 

"I  believe  you,"  returned  I,  pointedly, 
and  fixing  my  eye  upon  Huntly,  who 
blushed  and  turned  his  head  aside,  but 
made  no  remark. 

"  0,  what  a  surprise  awaits  Eva  on  the 
morrow!"  pursued  Lilian.  "She  does 
uot  dream  you  are  here  ;  and  yet  she  has 
been  praying  for  your  return  Avith  brother 
Charles,  every  day  since  you  left." 

"  I  thank  her,  from  my  heart,  for  her 
interest  in  our  welfare.  She  is  a  noble 
girl." 

"She  is  indeed  !"  rejoined  Lilian,  en 
thusiastic  in  praise  of  her  friend  ;  '•  and  I 
love  her  as  a  sister — which  I  hope  she 
may  be  ere  long,"  she  added,  playfully, 
turning  to  Huntly  with  a  smile,  who  ap 
peared  not  a  little  embarrassed.  "  O, 
Charles,"  continued  Lilian,  pursuing  her 


train  of  thought,  "If  ever  ono  being  loved 
another  without  seeing  him,  dear  Eva  loves 
you — for  your  name  is  ever  on  her  tongue.'* 

"  I  am  very  grateful  for  it,  certainly." 
replied  Charles,  evasively,  feeling  himsell 
pressed  for  an  answer. 

"  And  well  you  may  be — for  her  equal 
does  not  live  !  "  persisted  Lilian  with  spirit, 
loth  to  quit  the  subject. 

"  Do  not  assert  that !  "  returned  I,  wilh 
a  smile.  "  You  forget  that  Eva  had  a 
sister." 

"  But  who  knows  anything  of  her  sister, 
Francis  ?" 

"  Ay,  who  knows  ! "  answered  I,  re 
flecting  on  what  I  suspected,  and  on  what 
the  morrow  might  reveal.  "  But  come, 
Lilian,  since  Eva  has  so  much  place  in 
your  thoughts,  tell  me  how  it  has  fared 
with  you  since  last  we  met." 

"0,  as  well  as  could  be  expected,  and 
you  away,"  she  answered,  naively.  "  We 
have  walked,  and  rode,  and  played,  and 
sung,  and  read,  and  talked,  and  wondered 
fifty  times  a  day  where  you  were,  and 
when  you  would  return,  and  if  Charles 
would  come  with  you,  and  so  on.  To 
sum  up,  the  spring,  summer  and  most  of 
the  autumn  have  passed — but  somehow 
the  time  has  been  more  tedious  than  ] 
could  have  wished.  There  is  not  the  so 
ciety  here  to  please  us,  and  on  the  whole 
we  have  not  been  very  well  contented. 
There  has  been  quite  an  addition  of  set 
tlers  here  during  the  past  season,  and  tiie 
village  has  much  improved  since  you  saw 
it.  In  fact,  it  begins  to  assume  the  aspect 
of  a  civilized  town  ;  but  still  I  feel  I  could 
never  be  happy  here." 

"And  would  you  like  to  return  to  tlia 
east  ?  " 

"0,  dearly!" 

"  You  shall  start  in  the  spring,  then," 
I  rejoined. 

"  0,  that  is  joyful  news.  And  Eva 
shall  go  also  ?  " 

"All  that  desire  to  acccompany  us. 
Lilian." 

"  Eva  will  be  so  rejoiced  at  this.  But 
mother  has  invested  what  little  means  she 
had  in  the  purchase  of  land." 

"Well,  that  can  be  sold  again  ;  and  it 
will  have  lost  nothing  in  value,  since  tie 
town  has  begun  to  flourish." 

"  And   will  you  go,  mother  ?  "    aske«l 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


78 


Lilian,  addressing  the  good  old  lady,  who, 
meantime,  had  been  conversing  with 
Charles  in  an  under  tone. 

"As  my  children  desire,"  answered 
Mrs.  Huntly.  "  I  shall  leave  all  to  you, 
my  children.  But,  come,  Charles  is  about 
to  tell  us  of  his  captivity  ;  and  although  it 
is  late,  I  am  anxious  to  hear  his  tale." 

Thus  ended  my  conversation  for  the 
lime  with  Lilian  ;  and  forming  a  half  cir 
cle  around  her  brother,  we  all  attentively 
listened  to  his  thrilling  narrative.  By  the 
time  he  had  concluded,  the  m'g-ht  was  far 
advanced  ;  and  though  I  had  a  thousand 
things  to  say  to  Lilian,  I  deferred  them  all 
to  another  opportunity,  and  retired  to  rest 
with  a  lighter  heart  than  I  had  known  for 
many  a  long  year. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

•ORNING  SALUTATIONS MY  FRIEND    GLOOMY 

OLD  FRIENDS CORDIAL    GREETINGS 

MEETING  OF  CHARLES  AND  EVA EMBAR- 

IIASSMENT     OF     DOTH  REASSURANCE  

PRAIRIE     FLOWER    DISCUSSED NATURAL 

JURMISES  SLIGHT      JEALOUSY  GOOD 

TIDINGS. 

WHEN  I  awoke  on  the  following  morn 
ing,  the  bright  sun  was  already  streaming 
through  the  half  closed  shutter  of  my 
room.  Huntly  was  up  and  dressed,  and 
standing  by  my  bed. 

"Come  !  "  he  said,  as  I  partially  aroused 
myself  to  look  around :  "  Come,  Frank, 
*he  sun  is  up  before  you,  and  breakfast  is 
waiting ! " 

At  first  I  felt  a  little  bewildered,  as  a 
person  sometimes  will  in  a  strange  place. 
But  it  was  only  momentary  ;  and  remem 
bering  where  I  was,  I  sprang  to  the  floor, 
hurried  my  rude  toilet,-  and  accompanied 
my  friend  to  the  larger  apartment,  where  1 
found  (he  table  smoking  with  hot  viands, 
•Mid  Lilian  and  her  mother  ready  to  wel- 
jome  me  with  sweet  smiles  and  cordial 
•alutations." 

"  And  how  did  you  rest  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Huntly. 


"  Well !  "  I  answered.     "  I  slept  sound 
ly,  I  assure  you,  or  I  should  have  made 
my  appearance  ere  this." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  my  son,  for  yo« 
needed  rest.  Lilian  and  I  were  not  so  for 
tunate  ;  for  the  unusual  events  of  last 
night  drove  all  slumber  from  our  eyelids, 
and  we  could  do  nothing  but  talk  of  you 
and  Charles." 

"  I  fear  our  presence,  then,"  said  I,  smi 
ling,  "  has  robbed  you  of  a  sweet  night's 
rest?" 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,"  returned  Lilian, 
archly.  "  Your  presence  has  been  more 
beneficial  than  sleep,  I  assure  you  —  and 
never  did  I  behold  daylight  with  more 
joy." 

"  That  you  might  escape  from  your  re 
flections,  eh  !  Lilian  ?  " 

"  That  I  might  see  you  again,"  she  re 
joined,  wkh  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles. 

"  A  kiss  for  that !  "  cried  I  gaily. 

And  I  took  it. 

The  morning  meal  passed  off  cheerfully 
with  all  save  Charles,  who  appeared  some 
what  jrloomv,  at  times  abstracted,  and 
rarely  '.poke. 

"  AV  nat  is  the  matter,  my  friend  ?  "  in 
quired  i.  "  One  would  look  to  see  you 
cheerful,  if  not  gay  ;  and  yet  you  are  si 
lent  and  thoughtful." 

"I  feel  a  little  depressed  in  spirits,"  he 
answered.  "  But  never  mind  me.  I  shall 
be  myself  in  time.  At  present  I  am  so 
berly  inclined." 

"  Fatigue,  perhaps  ?  "  suggested  his 
mother. 

"  My  father  !  "  he  answered,  solemnly. 

Instantly  a  dead  silence  prevailed,  and 
the  tears  sprang  to  the  eyes  of  both  Mrs. 
Huntly  and  Lilian. 

"  But,  come,"  added  Charles,  after  a 
pause,  "  do  not  let  me  make  you  sad,  my 
friends  !  You  mourned  my  father  bitterly, 
long  ere  I  heard  of  his  death.  You  must 
remember  my  cause  for  grief  is  recent." 

"  Alas  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Huntly,  "  we  all 
mourn  him  still,  and  ever  must." 

Another  gloomy  silence  succeeded. 

"  I  saw  Teddy  this  morning,"  at  length 
pursued  Charles,  anxious  to  divert  our 
thoughts  from  the  painful  channel  into 
which  his  remarks  had  drawn  them,  "  and 
I  dispatched  him  to  Prairie  Plower,  re 
questing  the  presence  of  herself  and 


74 


LENI      LEOTI;     OR, 


friends.  She  and  they  will  soon  be 
here." 

"  And  I,"  added  Lilian,  "  have  seen 
Eva.  It  would  have  done  you  good  to 
have  witnessed  her  surprise  and  delight, 
on  hearing  the  joyful  tidings  I  imparted. 
I  expect  her  here  every  moment.  Ha  ! 
she  is  here  now  !  "  she  added,  rising  ;  "  I 
know  her  step  ;  "  and  hastening  to  the 
door,  she  conducted  the  object  of  her  re 
marks  and  Madame  Mortimer  into  the 
apartment. 

I  hurriedly  arose  and  advanced  to  meet 
them. 

"  0,  I  am  so  rejoiced  to  see  you,  Fran 
cis  ! "  cried  Eva,  springing  forward  and 
extending  both  hands,  which  I  shook  warm 
ly.  "  This  is  a  joyful  surprise  indeed  !  " 

"  And  I,"  said  Madame  Mortimer,  com 
ing  up,  "  I,  too,  believe  me,  am  most  hap 
py  to  welcome  you  back,  as  it  were,  to  the 
land  of  the  living !  We  have  felt  your 
bss  severely  —  most  severely,  sir  !  "  and 
the  pressure  of  her  hands,  as  she  said  this, 
convinced  ine  her  words  were  not  idly 
said. 

"  I  feel  myself  most  fortunate  and  hap 
py  in  having  such  friends,"  I  replied,  em 
phasizing  the  last  word  ;  "  And,  I  assure 
you,  I  am  as  rejoiced  to  meet  them  as  they 
can  be  to  see  me.  '  But,  come  !  let  rne  pre 
sent  jou  to  my  long  lost  friend  !"  and 
turning  to  Huntly,  who  had  risen  from  his 
seat,  I  introduced  both  mother  and  daugh 
ter  together. 

Huntly  bowed  low  to  each,  and,  with 
unusual  embarrassment  for  him,  said  it 
gave  him  extreme  pleasure  to  moet  with 
those  whom  he  had  seen  years  before,  in 
a  moment  of  peril,  and  of  whom  he  had 
since  heard  so  much  from  me. 

1  particularly  noted  the  countenance  of 
Eva,  who  now  beheld  Charles  Huntly  for 
the  first  time.  As  I  presented  her,  she 
turned  pale,  then  crimsoned  to  the  eyes, 
then  took  a  faltering  step  forward,  as  if  to 
meet  him,  but  finally  paused  and  let  her 
eyes  sink  to  the  floor,  seemingly  greatly 
embarrassed.  Not  so  with  Madame  Mor 
timer.  With  a  quick  step  she  instantly 
advanced  toward  Charles,  who  met  her 
half  way,  seized  his  proffered  hand,  and 
frankly  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
emotion  : 

"  God  bJess  you,  Charles  Huntly  !     I 


am  most  happy  to  behold  you.  You,  sir, 
a  stranger,  saved  the  life  of  my  daughter, 
at  the  risk  of  your  own.  You  have  had  a 
fond  mother's  prayers  for  your  safety  and 
happiness  ever  since  ;  but  until  now,  1 
have  never  had  an  opportunity  of  express 
ing  to  you  my  most  lasting  obligations  ;  " 
and  she  turned  away  her  face  to  conceal 
the  springing  tears. 

"  You  owe  me  no  obligations,"  returned 
my  friend,  frankly.  "  If  there  were  any 
due,  they  have  long  since  been  canceled 
in  your  kindness  to  those  I  love.  I  did 
but  my  duty  ;  and  if  the  adventure  wa» 
perilous  at  the  time,  it  certainly  brought 
its  own  reward  afterward,  in  a  satistied 
conscience." 

Here  he  rested  his  eyes  upon  Eva,  with 
an  expression  as  of  uncertainty  whethei 
to  advance  to  her  side  or  remain  where  he 
was.  At  the  same  time  Eva  looked  up, 
their  eyes  met,  and  with  a  simultaneous 
movement,  each  approached  and  took  tho 
other  by  the  hand. 

"  0,  sir  !  "  began  Eva,  in  a  timid  voice, 
and  then  paused,  while  her  snowy  hand 
trembled  with  agitation.  Then  making 
a  struggle  to  appear  calm,  she  added  :  "  ] 
— I — am  very — very  grateful ;  "  and  tho 
last  word  died  away  in  an  almost  inaudible 
murmur. 

What  a  perplexing  predicament  for  my 
friend  !  Before  him  stood  the  first  being 
he  had  ever  loved,  beyond  the  love  filial 
and  fraternal.  She  stood  before  him,  face 
to  face,  her  hand  trembling  in  his,  and  her 
voice  sounding  the  sweet  words  of  a  grate 
ful  heart  in  his  ear.  That  voice  and  those 
words  which  once  would  have  made  him 
frantic  with  rapture.  Which  once  would 
have  sent  the  hot  blood  to  his  heart,  only 
that  it  might  again  leap  in  burning  streams 
through  his  swollen  veins.  Which  once, 
in  short,  would  have  made  him  the  hap- 
pi^st  of  mortals.  How  was  it  now  1  Tim* 
ana  circumstances  work  great  changes  in 
the  human  heart,  and  my  friend  was  chang 
ed — at  least  changed  in  that  impassioned 
sentiment  he  had  once  felt  fur  the  object 
before  him.  He  was  not  cold  and  indif 
ferent — not  insensible  to  her  lovely  charms 
and  noble  virtues.  No  !  he  was  affected — 
deeply  affected — affected  to  tears  by  he/ 
look  and  language.  He  loved  her  still- 
but  with  a  modified  love.  The  love  of  * 


A  D  V  £  N  T  U  11  E  3    I  V 

brother  for  A  sisi or.  The  love  which  is' 
founded  on  este<  m,  for  the  high  and  noble 
qualities  po.«es?ed  by  another,  without  re 
gard  to  mere  personalities.  There  wa-<  no 
ardency  —  no  passion.  No!  all  this  was 
•rone-— transferred  to  another  Prairie 
Flower  alone  held  the  heart  of  Charles 
Huntly. 

"Miss  Mortimer,"  replied  my  friend  — 
•'  or  rather  let  me  call  you  Eva — I  am 
most  happy  to  meet  you,  and  feel  it  is  I, 
rather  than  you,  who  ought  to  be  grate 
ful,  for  having  been  permitted  to  do  an  act 
which  has  already  repaid  me  ten-fold.  I 
am  one  who  hold  that  every  virtuous  deed 
bears  with  it  its  own  reward.  Pray,  be 
seated,  and  we  will  talk  farther  !  " 

"  Ay,"  chimed  in  Madame  Mortimer, 
"  and  you  shall  give  us,  Charles,  some  of 
your  own  adventures.  Since  you  came  to 
the  Far  West,  you  have,  if  I  am  rightly 
informed,  experienced  much  of  the  ro 
mantic." 

"  I  have  seen  a  little  of  romance,  I  be 
lieve,"  replied  Huntly,  as,  pointing  his 
friends  to  seats,  he  took  another  between 
them. 

"  Lilian,"  pursued  Madame  Mortimer, 
"  has  already  told  me  something,  and  I 
nm  anxious  to  hear  more.  She  says  you 
are  indebted  to  a  beautiful  Indian  maiden 
for  both  life  and  liberty — certainly  a  heavy 
obligation  on  your  part." 

"  I  feel  it  such, "  rejoined  Huntly, 
jhanging  color. 

"  And  who  is  this  Indian  girl?  and  to 
what  tribe  does  she  belong  1  The  daughter 
of  some  great  chief,  I  suppose  1 — for  in  all 
novels,  you  know,  the  heroine  must  be 
some  great  personage,  either  acknowledged 
or  incog." 

"  But,  you  forget,  madam,"  returned 
Huntly  smiling,  "  that  the  heroine  in  this 
case,  as  you  are  pleased  to  term  Prairie 
Flower,  is  an  individual  in  real  life  ;  where 
as  in  novels,  the  heroine  alone  exists  in 
the  imagination  of  the  author,  and  can  be 
whatever  he  may  see  proper  to  make  her. 
Therefore  you  should  not  be  surprised, 
should  she  turn  out  some  humble -indi 
vidual." 

"  Well,"  answered  Madame  Mortimer, 
all  romance  is  much  alike,  whether  imag 
inary  or  real ;  for  the  novelist,  if  true  to 
hit  calling,  must,  draw  his  scenes  from  real 


T  li  TL    F  A  I:    W  EST.  75 

life  ;  and  hence  I  may  be  permitted  to  sxip- 
po^e  the  heroine,  in  this  case,  a  person  of 
some  consequence." 

"  And  so  she  may  be  for  what  we  know 
to  the  contrary,"  said  I,  joining  in. 

'•  And  do  you  not  know  who  she  is, 
then  1 "  asked  Madame  Mortimer. 

"  We  know  nothing  positive." 

"  Is  she  not  the  daughter  of  a  chief  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Is  she  beautiful  ?  "  asked  Eva,  giving 
me  a  peculiar  look. 

"  Very  beautiful/'  replied  I,  glancing  at 
my  friend,  "who  colored  and  seemed  a  little 
confused. 

Both  Eva  and  her  mother  caught  the 
expression  of  Huntly's  countenance,  and 
the  latter  said  : 

"  Then  perhaps  Charles  has  lost  his 
heart  with  her  ?  " 

Eva  turned  to  him  quickly,  with  a  search 
ing  glance,  and  immediately  added  : 

"I  believe  he  has  —  for  he  changes 
color  at  the  mere  mention  of  her  name ;" 
and  her  own  features,  as  she  spoke,  grew 
a  shade  paler. 

"  One  has  his  heart  that  is  nearer  at 
hand,"  observed  Lilian,  who  with  her 
mother,  had  been  standing  a  silent  specta 
tor  of  what  had  passed. 

"  I  pray  you  drop  this  jesting  ! "  said 
Huntly,  with  an  effort  to  appear  careless 
and  unconcerned. 

"  Nay,  but  1  must  know  more  of  this 
singular  personage,"  pursued  Madame 
Mortimer  ;  "  for  I  feel  deeply  interested  in 
her.  A  girl  that  could  and  would  do  what 
she  has  done,  can  be  no  ordinary  being." 

"  So  think  I,"  added  Mrs.  Huntly. 

"And  so  you  will  find  her,"  I  rejoined. 

"  I  am  dying  to  see  her,"  said  Lilian. 

"  She  must  have  taken  great  interest  in 
the  fate  of  Charles,  to  seek  him  out  in  cap 
tivity,"  observed  Madame  Mortimer.  "Is 
it  not  so,  Francis  ?  " 

"  Her  motto  of  life  is  to  do  all  the  good 
she  can,"  I  answered  rather  evasively. 
"  She  would  take  an  interest  in  any  one 
who  chanced  to  be  in  trouble." 

"  God  bless  her,  then,  for  a  true  heart !" 
was  the  response. 

"  But  how  came  she  to  think  of  visiting 
Oregon  ?  "  asked  Eva. 

"  We  persuaded  her  to  accompany  as 
home,"  I  replied.  "  As  she  onc«  saved 


78 


LENI    LEOTI;   OR, 


both  our  In  es,  and  afterward  ransomed 
Charles  from  slave)  v,  not  forgetting  that 

•  1*1 

mg-nt,  winch  you  all  remember,  when  she 
gave  us  timely  warning  of  danger,  where 
by  much  bloodshed  was  averted,  I  thought 
you  would  like  to  see  and  thank  her." 

"And  you  were  right,"  said  Lilian,  "0, 
Eva,  we  will  love  her  as  a  sister,  will  we 
not  ?  " 

"  Certainly."  answered  Eva,  rather  ab 
stractedly,  and  evidently  not  so  well  pleas 
ed  with  the  idea  of  her  being  present  as 
the  "other.  "  Certainly,  we  will  love  her 
as  a  .sister." 

Could  a  faint,  a  very  faint  spark  of  jeal 
ousy  have  begun  to  blaze  in  her  breasl  ?  I 
observed  her  closely,  and  drew  my  own 
conclusions.  Let  the  reader  draw  his. 

Meantime  Huntly  had  remained  seated, 
apparently  indifferent  to  everything  said. 
Was  lie  indifferent?  Again  let  the  reader, 
who  knows  something  of  the  state  of  his 
heart,  be  his  own  judge.  We  who  are  in 
the  secret  can  think  what  we  please.  And 
why  did  Eva  suddenly  become  so  thought 
ful  and  abstracted  ?  Was  she  thinking  of 
Prairie  Flower  ?  and  did  she  fear  a  rival 
in  an  Indian  maiden?  —  for  I  had  never 
intimated  she  was  other  than  an  Indian. 
Again  let  the  reader  decide.  My  design, 
as  previously  staled,  was  to  bring  all  par 
ties  together, 'and  leave  matters  to  take 
their  own  course  ;  and  I  now  felt  anxious 
for  all  the  actors  to  be  on  the  stage,  that  I 
might  witness  the  denouement. 

For  some  time  the  conversation  went  on, 
gradually  changing  from  Prairie  Flower  to 
my  friend,  who  was  called  upon  to  nan-ate 
some  of  his  adventures. 

Anxious  to  entertain  those  present,  and 
divert  his  thoughts  from  other  subjects,  he 
began  the  recital  of  a  thrilling  scene,  in 
which  he  was  an  inactive,  though  not 
unconcerned  spectator,  and  had  already 
reached  the  most  exciting  part,  holding 
his  listeners  breathless  with  interest,  when 
Teddy  entered  the  apartment  in  haste, 
exclaiming : 

"  Your  honor — "  Then  pausing  as  he 
»aw  who  were  present,  and  making  a  low 
:  bow  —  "  Beg  pardon,  ladies  !  My  most 
obedient  respicts  lo  all  o'  yees,  by  token 
I've  saan  yees  afore." 

••"  Wei],  well,  Teddy-  -have  they  come  ?" 
inquired  I,  impatiently. 


"  Troth,  and  they  his,  your  honor!  aiJ 
that's  jist  what  I 's  a-going  to  say  whin 
the  likes  o'  so  many  beaathiful  females  pui 
me  out  a  bit." 

"  And  where  are  they  now.  Teddy  ?  " 

"  Jist  round  the  corne),  as  ye"  may 
say." 

"  Remain  here,  and  I  will  soon  set  Prai 
rie  Flower  before  you,"  said  1,  addressing 
the  others,  who  were  now  all  excitement 
to  behold  my  fair  friend. 

And  I  hurried  from  the  cot,  followed  by 
Teddy. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

PUAIIUK  FLOWER HER  APPEARANCE 

TIONS INTRODUCTION THE  SURPRISE 

THE  LIKENESS A  THRILLING  SCENE A 

MOTHER'S   FEELINGS  —  WILD  INTERROGA 
TIONS  STARTLING    DENOUEMENT. 

I  found  Prairie  Flower  seated  upon  her 
little  pony,  in  company  with  her  Indian 
friends,  pale  and  agitated,  but  looking,  if 
anything,  more  beautiful  than  ever.  She 
wore  a  plain,  neat  dress  without  ornament, 
which  titled  her  person  well,  and  displayed 
her  airy,  symmetrical  figure  to  the  best 
advantage.  Her  dark,  glossy  hair  was 
braided  and  arranged,  if  not  a  la  mode,  at 
least  in  most  exquisite  taste  ;  and  altogether 
her  appearance  was  such  as  could  not  of 
fend  the  searching  gaze  of  the  most  fastid 
ious  critic.  All  trace  of  the  Indian  was 
gone  ;  and  gazing  upon  her  sweet,  modest 
countenance,  one  could  hardly  realize  her 
life,  for  the  most  part,  had  been  spent  in 
the  wilderness,  among  the  red  children  oJ 
the  forest. 

"  And  how  fares  my  fair  friend  this 
morning  ?  "  I  said,  with  a  smile,  as  I  came 
up. 

"  But  indifferently  well,"  she  answered, 
dismounting. 

"  I  fear  you  did  not  rest  well  last  night/* 

"  I  did  not  rest  at  all,"  she  replied. 
"  How  could  1  rest,  sir,  with  such  momen 
tous  thoughts  as  kept  me  company  ?  O, 
sir,"  she  added  vehemently,  placing  h«-» 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE     FAR    WEST 


TJ 


hand  upon  her  heart;  "here,  here  were 
strange  feelings,  strange  emotions,  strange 
yearnings  —  but  all  powerful  as  strange  — 
and  they  kept  ray  senses  from  slumber. 
Every  nerve  was  then  strained,  and  I  felt 
strong.  But  now  —  I  am  weak  —  very 
weak  ;"  and  ay  she  spoke,  she  rested  her 
hand  on  the  ueck  of  her  little  pony  for 
rapport. 

"  Come  !  "  said  I,  advancing  to  her  side, 
"take  my  arm,  and  I  will  conduct  you 
hence.  It  is  intense  excitement  which  so 
unnerves  you  ;  but  you  must  not  give  way 
to  it.  It  is  necessary,  for  the  present,  that 
you  be  calm,  and  do  not  loso  your  wonted 
presence  of  mind." 

"And  whither  would  you  conduct  me  ?  " 
she  timidly  inquired. 

"  Within  this  humble  cottage." 

"  And — and — are — they  there-  -  of — of 
whom  you  spoke?"  she  fairly  gasped. 

"Ay!  they  await  your  presence  to 
thank  you  for  all  your  kindness." 

"And  do — do — they  knoio?  "  she  said, 
emphasizing  the  last  word,  clasping  my 
hand,  and  fixing  her  dark  eyes,  with  a 
singular  expression,  upon  mine. 

"  They  know  nothing,  Prairie  Flower, 
but  that  you  are  the  author  of  many  noble 
deeds,  for  which  they  are  your  debtors, 
and  for  which  they  are  anxious  to  return 
yoa  heart-felt  thanks.  My  friend  and  I 
thought  it  best  to  brino-  you  together. 

•  ••  ™.  •  •  •»     f  ^ 

without  even  hinting  our  surmises." 

"It  was  a  happy  thought  in  you,"  she 
replied,  with  some  reassurance  ;  "  I  am 
gbid  you  did  so ;  I  am  glad  they  know 
nothing ;  and  I  will  try  to  be  calm  and 
appear  indifferent.  But,  sir,  believe  me  ! 
this  is  a  great  trial.  I  have  been  used  to 
danger  all  my  life.  I — though  you  may 
think  it  strange,  for  I  have  never  told  it 
you  before  —  have  even  stood  upon  the 
field  of  carnage,  where  the  fierce  battle 
raged,  and  the  deadly  missiles  were  whirl 
ing  past  me,  fairly  hissing  in  my  ear,  and 
there  have  striven  to  succor  the  wounded. 
I  have  had  my  life  in  danger  many  times, 
when.  I  believed  every  moment  would  be 
my  1-ist.  I  have,  for  my  years,  seen 
much  hardship  and  peril — but  never,  sir, 
i.  moment  like  the  present — never  a  time 
»rh«-n  1  felt  my  soul  shrink  within  me, 
nnd  refuse  to  do  my  bidding  as  now — 
<U3Vt>r  a  time  when  I  had  less  self-com 


mand  and  felt  I  needed  it  more  I  am 
about  to  enttr  the  presence  of  those  whose 
blood,  perchance,  runs  in  my  veins  ;  and 
the  doubts — the  uncertainty — the  hopes 
and  fears  which  are  based  upon  this  bare 
possibility,  are  mighty  in  their  strength. 
0,  sir !  such  feelings — such  wild,  strange 
feelings  as  rush  over  me  at  the  thought. 
are  beyond  the  utterance  of  mortal  tongue 
— words  could  not  express  them.  But  I 
will  say  no  more.  I  keep  them  waiting. 
I  will  nerve  myself.  I  am  ready." 

"  Cut  perhaps  your  friends  here  had 
better  wait  till  this  first  interview  is  over." 

"  True,"  she  added,  "  they  must  not 
witness  it ; "  and  turning,  she  addressed 
a  few  words  to  them,  and  signified  that 
she  was  ready. 

At  this  moment  my  eye  fell  upon 
several  of  the  villagers,  who  were  saun 
tering  toward  us,  attracted,  some  of  them 
perhaps  by  curiosity,  and  others  by  the 
news  of  my  arrival.  As  I  did  not  care 
to  see  any  at  present,  I  said  a  word  to 
Prairie  Flower,  and  we  hastened  our  steps 
to  ihe  threshold  of  the  cottage. 

"  Courage,"  I  whispered,  and  led  her 
in  wiih  a  faltering  step. 

All  eyes  were  instantly  fastened  upon 
her  ;  ami  the  involuntary  exclamation  from 
more  than  one  was,  "How  beautiful!" 
Prairie  Flower,  pale,  and  trembling,  could 
not  return  their  gaze,  but  sank  her  own 
to  the  ground. 

"  My  friends,"  I  said,  I  herewith  pre 
sent  you  our  fair  benefactress,  to  whom 
two  o'f  us  at  least,  if  not  all  present,  are 
indebted  for  our  lives.  This  is  the  Prairie 
Flower,  of  whom  I  spoke ;  and  taking 
slight  liberty  with  her  name,  I  may  be 
permitted  to  term  her  the  Flower  of  the 
Wilderness."  • 

As  I  spoke,  each  of  the  ladies  rose  and 
advanced  to  meet  her,  but  Lilian  was  the 
first  to  gain  her  side.  With  a  quick  step 
she  came  forward,  and  taking  the  inactive 
hands  of  Prairie  Flower  in  her  own,  said 
in  a  bland,  frank,  affectionate  tone  : 

"  Welcome,  sweet  maiden,  to  the  home 
of  those  who  already  love  you  for  your 
many  virtues.  I  have — " 

At  this  moment  Prairie  Flower  raised 
her  eyes  to  those  of  the  speaker,  whose 
countenance  suddenly  changed  to  a  look 
of  bewildered  surprise,  and  taking  a 


78 


LENI     LEOTI;    OR, 


step  backward,  she  clasped  her  h;mds 
and  ejaculated  : 

''  Good  heavens  !  how  remarkable  !  " 

"The  charm  works."  whispered  I  to 
my  friend,  who  had  silently  joined  me. 

He  pressed  my  hand  nervously,  but 
said  nothing. 

"  Yes,  welcome  to  our  humble  abode, 
Prairie  Flower,"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  in  a 
kindly  tone,  who,  her  gaze  riveted  upon 
the  f<«ir  maiden,  had  not  as  yet  noticed  the 
surprise  and  agitation  of  her  daughter. 
"  Eh  !  what !  how  !  "  she  added  the  next 
moment,  as  the  dark  eyes  of  Prairie  Flower 
in  turn  rested  upon  hers  ;  and  she  glanced 
quickly  toward  Eva,  Madame  Mortimer 
and  Lilian,  and  then  back  again  upon 
Prairie  Flower,  as  if  uncertain  what  to 
think  or  how  to  act. 

"  I  thank  you  —  for  —  for  — your  kind 
ness!"  faltered  Prairie  Flower,  again 
dropping  her  eyes  to  the  ground,  and  evi 
dently  scarcely  able  to  support  herself  from 
sinking. 

At  the  moment  Mrs.  Huntly  spoke,  Eva 
had  extended  her  hand  within  a  step  of 
Prairie  Flower,  and  her  lips  were  just 
parted  to  utter  a  welcome,  when  the  same 
look  which  had  surprised  the  former,  ar 
rested  her  motions  and  held  her  spell 
bound,  as  if  suddenly  transformed  to  a 
statue  of  marble.  But  it  was  Madame 
Mortimer  who  now  fixed  my  whole  atten 
tion.  She  had  come  up  a  little  behind 
the  others,  with  an  expression  of  patroniz 
ing,  benevolent  curiosity  on  her  line,  mat 
ronly  features.  The  first  glance  at  Prairie 
Flower  had  changed  the  idle  look  of  curi 
osity,  to  one  of  surprise  and  interest  at  her 
maiden  beauty,  and  the  absence  of  that 
distinguishing  mark  of  the  Indian  which 
she  had  expeated  to  find.  The  next  mo 
ment  she  evidently  became  struck  with  her 
strong  resemblance  to  Eva,  which  had  so 
surprised  each  of  the  others ;  and  a  sud 
den  vague,  wild  thought  —  a  suspicion — a 
something  undefinable  — rushed  over  her 
half  bewildered  brain;  and  her  features 
jrrew  ashy  pale,  her  bosom  heaved,  and 
Tier  very  lips  turned  white  with  internal 
emotions.  But  it  was  when  Prairie  Flower 
spoke,  you  should  have  seen  her.  There 
was  something  in  that  voice,  that  seemed 
to  thrill  every  nerve,  and  then  take  away 
all  powei  of  motion  —  suspend  every  ani 


mal  function.  At  the  first  sound,  she 
leaned  a  little  forward,  one  hand,  uncon 
sciously  as  it  were,  stretched  toward  the 
speaker,  and  the  other  instinctively  clasp 
ing  her  forehead  ;  while  the  blood  rushing 
upward,  crimsoned  her  features,  and  then 
retreating  to  her  heart,  left  them  paler 
than  ever.  Her  lips  parted,  her  eyea 
seemed  starting  from  their  sockets,  her 
heaving  breast  ceased  its  throbbing,  and 
she  stood  transfixed  to  the  ground,  mo 
tionless  and  mute,  apparently  without  life, 
or  only  that  life  of  surprised  and  bewil- 
dcred  inaction,  which  the  master  sculptoi 
of  the  passions  sometimes  transfuses  into 
the  otherwise  inanimate  object  of  his  cre 
ation.  It  was  a  strange  and  impressive 
picture,  and  one  that  would  have  made,  t,ht/ 
fortune  and  fame  of  any  artist  who  could 
have  accurately  transferred  it  to  canvas. 
A  momentary  silence  prevailed — a  deathly 
silence — that  seemingly  had  in  it  the  aw 
ful  calm  preceding  the  frightful  tempest. 
For  a  brief  space  no  one  moved — no  one 
spoke — and,  I  may  add,  no  one  breathed  ; 
for  the  internal  excitement  had  suspended 
respiration.  There  they  stood,  as  1  have 
described  them,  a  wonderful  group — sw'jct 
Prairie  Flower  as  the  central  figure  and 
object  of  interest,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes, 
c.nd,  if  I  may  be  permitted  the  expression, 
the  very  soul  of  all  thought.  Just  behind 
Prairie  Flower  stood  Huntly,  my  hand  clasp 
ed  in  his  and  suffering  from  its  pressure. 

Madame  Mortimer  was  the  first  to  movo 
— the  first  to  break  the  silence.  Suddiin.- 
ly  taking  a  step  forward,  between  Mrs. 
Huntly  and  Eva,  and  clasping  her  hands 
before  her,  her  eyes  still  riveted  upon  Prai 
rie  Flower,  she  exclaimed  in  a  hoarse  whis 
per,  that  had  something  sepulchral  in  its 
sound  : 

"  Merciful  God  !  who  are  you  ?  Speak  ! 
speak  !  In  Heaven's  name,  who  are  you?" 

Prairie  Flower  looked  up  wildly,  clasp 
ed  her  hands,  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the 
other,  and  trembled  violently,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  cried  Madame  Morti 
mer  again.  "  For  God's  sake,  sponkl  and 
break  this  terrible  spell  of  painful,  be 
wildering  uncertainty  !  Speak !  1  charge 
you,  speak  ! " 

But  the  lips  of  Prairie  Flower  ga»«»  na 
!  answer. 


AD  V  EN  /T  RES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


78 


"  Speak  you  !  "  continued  Madame  Mor 
timer,  wildly,  nppealing  to  me:  "Speak 
any  !  speak  all  !  but  speak  somebody  ! 
and  tell  me  I  am  not  in  a  dream — a  dream 
from  which  it  would  be  terrible  to  wake 
and  know  it  but  a  dream." 

"  You  do  not  dream,"  said  I  ;  "  and,  I 
have  every  reason  to  believe,  are  stand 
ing  in  the  presence  of " 

"Who?"  she  screamed,  interrupting 
me 

"  Your  long  lost  duuglder  !  " 

"Ah  !  "  she  shrieked  :  "  God  of  mercy  ! 
1  thought  so!"  and  staggering  forward, 
she  threw  out  her  arms,  fell  heavily  upon 
the  breast  of  Prairie  Flower,  and  swooned 
in  her  embrace. 


CHAPTER    XV  III. 

CONFUSION MADAME     MORTIMER    RESTORED 

SECOND     INTERVIEW    OF     MOTHER     AND 

DAUGHTER THE     GRATEFUL     1'RAYER 

k'EARS  OK    PRAIKIE    FLOWER DOUBTS    RE 
MOVED LIGHT    CONVERSATION A  STROLL 

—OLD    ACQUAINTANCES OREGON    CITY 

LOVE'S  MISGIVINGS RET'J»N  TO  THE  COT 
TAGE. 

To  describe  minutjy  what  occurred  du- 
.-ing  the  first  halt  hour  after  this  singular 
meeting  between  mother  and  daughter,  is 
wholly  beyond  my  power — for  I  was  too 
much  excited  myseif  to  note  anything 
distinctly.  For  a,  time  all  was  uproar  and 
confusion  —  persons  running  to  and  fro, 
calling  for  this  thing  and  that,  and  utter 
ing  exclamations  of  terror,  surprise  and 
bewilderment. 

Meantime  Madame  Mortimer  was  borne 
in  an  unconscious  state  to  an  adjoining 
apartment,  where  such  restoratives  as  could 
be  had  were  speedily  applied,  for  a  long 
time  without  success  ;  while  Prairie  Flow 
er,  more  dead  than  alive,  was  conducted 
to  a  seal,  where  Eva,  the  tirst  alarm  for 
b«;r  mciher  over,  ilew  to  embrace  her,  to 
twine  her  arms  around  her  neck,  call  her 
"  Dear,  dear  sister  !  "  and  weep  and  laugh 
alternately  as  one  insane.  Lilian  and  Mrs. 


Huntly  seemed  completely  bewildered ; 
and  were  now  with  Madame  Mortimer,  and 
anon  with  Prairie  Flower,  aiding  the  re 
covery  of  the  one,  wondering  over  the 
other,  and  continually  uttering,  "  How 
strange  !  how  strange  !  "  Charles,  pale  aa 
a  corpse,  had  sunk  upon  a  seat,  and  with 
his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  sat  in  silence; 
while  I,  after  running  up  and  down  the 
room  several  times,  found  myself,  much  to 
my  surprise,  alone  in  the  center  of  the 
apartment  and  dancing  iv>r  very  joy. 

At  last  everything  began  to  assume  a 
more  tranquil  and  sane  appearance.  Prai 
rie  Flower  found  vent  to  her  feelings  in  a 
flood  ot  tears  upon  the  breast  of  Eva,  who, 
as  she  put  in  now  and  then  a  soothing 
word,  begging  the  other  to  be  calm,  min 
gled  her  own  with  her  sister's  ;  while  Lili 
an  and  her  mother  wept  in  sympathy  of 
joy,  and  my  own  eyes,  by  the  spontaneous 
action  of  an  overflowing  soul,  would,  in 
spite  of  myself,  occasionally  grow  dim. 
Madame  Mortimer,  too,  gradually  regained 
her  senses,  and  looking  hurriedly  about 
her,  anxiously  inquired  for  her  long  lost 
daughter.  Prairie  Flower  was  at  once 
conducted  to  her  side,  whither  we  all  fol 
lowed  to  witness  the  interview. 

For  something  like  a  minute,  Madame 
Mortimer  gazed  upon  her  daughter  without 
speaking,  during  which  her  features  dis 
played  all  the  varying  expressions  of  a 
mother's  tender,  yearning  love  for  a  long 
lost  child. 

"  'Tis  she  !  "  at  length  escaped  her  lips, 
in  that  deep  tone  by  which  the  very  soul 
gives  utterance  :  "  "Lis  she!  the  long-lost — 
the  sadly-wept — the  deeply-mourned.  Yes, 
'tis  she —  there  is  no  mistaking  those  fea 
tures.  The  lost  is  found  —  the  dead  re 
stored  to  lite."  Then  pausing,  clasping, 
her  hands  and  looking  upward,  she  added: 
"  God!  all  merciful,  all  wise,  and  all  just— 
for  this  I  thank  thee,  from  the  inner  depths 
of  a  grateful  heart !  This  day's  happiness, 
O  God  !  hath  canceled  long  years  of  suf 
fering  and  sorrow ;  and  henceforth  the 
study  of  my  life  shall  be  to  glorify  thy 
name." 

During  this  brief,  solemn,  but  heart-felt 
offering  of  gralkuJe  to  the  Great  Author 
of  the  universe,  Prairie  Flower  gradually 
sank  upon  her  knees  beside  the  b«-d  where 
on  the  speakei  was  lying,  a/id  ci  vt ring  her 


80 


LENI     LEOTI:     OR, 


face  with  her  hands,  appeared  lost  in  si 
lent  devotion.  This  over,  she  arose,  and 
gazing  upon  Madame  Mortimer  a  moment, 
with  a  look  of  unutterable  affection,  uttered 
the  single  word  "  Mother  !  "  threw  her 
self  upon  the  breast  of  the  latter,  was 
strained  to  her  heart,  and  the  tears  of  both 
mingled. 

It  was  a  touching  scene,  and  one  that 
needs  no  comment  from  me. 

"  And  now,  my  sweet  child,"  said  Ma 
dame  Mortimer,  pressing  her  lips  warmly 
to  the  other's,  "  my  long  lost  Evuline  Mor 
timer—  for  by  that  name,  which  you  bore 
in  infancy,  you  must  henceforth  be  known 
- — tell  me  something  of  yourself,  and  how 
you  came  to  be  found  among  the  Indians  !  " 

Prairie  Flower  —  or  Evaline,.  as  I  will 
hereafter  term  her  —  started,  turned  pale, 
and  sighed  heavily,  but  did  not  reply.  At 
once  I  comprehended  her  thoughts  and 
hastened  to  relieve  her  ;  for  I  saw  in  her 
look  a  secret  dread,  lest  the  unrevealed 
secret  ia  her  possession  might  even  now 
dash  the  cup  of  joy  from  her  lips,  by 
proving  her  the  child  of  another. 

"  She  knows  but  little  of  her  own  his 
tory,"  I  began,  and  then  went  on  to  re 
count  our  tirht  suspicions  as  to  who  she 
might  be,  and  what  followed,  up  to  her 
finding  :he  hidden  box,  which  probably 
contained  a  statement  of  the  facts,  but 
which  she,  for  reasons  explained,  had  not 
yet  examined. 

"  Alas  !  "  sighed  Evaline,  "  and  that  is 
what  troubles  me  now.  I  fear  t'»  jre  may 
have  been  some  mistake  ;  and  if,  oh  God  ! 
there  be " 

"  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  my 
child!"  interrupted  Madame  Mortimer; 
"  for  yen  are  my  child,  I  feel  and  know ; 
and  for  my  own  satisfaction,  would  never 
seek  other  proof  than  what  I  have  —  your 
like/less  to  Eva,  and  a  mother's  yearnings. 
But  if  you  have  any  doubts,  examine  your 
left  arm,  and  you  there  will  find  a  scar,  in 
the  form  of  a  quarter  moon,  which  was 
impressed  upon  Evaline  Mortimer  in  in 
fancy." 

Evaline  started,  mml  hurriedly  bared  her 
arm  with  a  trembling  hand.  We  all  press 
ed  forward  to  examine  it.  There,  sure 
enough  !  just  below  the  elbow,  the  identi 
cal  scar  could  be  traced  —  dim,  it  is  true, 
but  still  the  scar  of  '1-e  quarter  moon.. 


Evaline  gazed  upon  it  a  moment,  faint 
and  pale  with  joyful  emotions,  and  then 
turning  her  soft,  dark  eyes  dbove,  with  the 
sublime  look  of  saint,  and  clasping  hei 
hands,  said  solemnly  : 

"  God  !  I  thank  thee  !  " 

"  My  sister — my  sweet,  long  lost  sister  J" 
said  Eva  affectionately,  gently  twining  hei 
arms  around  the  neck  of  the  other  and 
gazing  upward  also  —  "I,  too,  thank  Go<! 
for  this  ! " 

Evaline  turned,  clasped  the  olher  in  hei 
arms,  and  falling  upon  each  other's  neck, 
the  beautiful  twin  sisters  wept  in  each 
other's  embrace. 

"  What  a  singular  meeting  is  this  !  "  ob 
served  Mrs.  Huntiy  to  Madame  Mortimer 
who  now  completely  recovered  arose  from 
the  bed.  "  And  how  remarkable,  thai 
both  you  and  I  should  have  a  long  lost 
child  restored  to  us  at  the  same  time  !  " 

"  Ay,"  answered  the  other,  "  God  some 
times  works  in  wonders,  and  this  is  one 
But  not  the  least  remarkable  of  all  is  the 
fact,  that  some  years  since  your  son  saved 
the  life  of  my  daughter,  and  subsequently 
my  daughter  saved  the  life  of  your  son 
—  though  each  at  the  time  wholly  un 
known  to  the  other,  with  no  apparent  con 
nection  between  the  two  striking  events. 
The  good  we  do  returns  to  us,  as  the  evil 
of  our  life  often  falls  heavily  upon  our 
heads.  I  have  experienced  both  ; "  and  she 
sighed  heavily.  "  But  come,  my  daugh 
ter,"  she  added,  turning  to  Evaline,  "  you 
have  friends  with  you  whom  we  have  long 
kept  waiting.  We  must  now  entertain 
them,  or  they  will  think  themselves  slight 
ed,  and  with  good,  reason.  When  every 
thing  is  properly  arranged  and  settled,  we 
will  have  those  secret  documents  produced 
and  hear  your  tale." 

As  she  spoke,  she  led  the  way  to  the 
larger  apartment. 

"Charley,"  I  whispered,  "I  fear  we 
have  forgotten  to  congratulate  Prairie 
Flower  on  the  happy  termination  of  thii 
interview  and  change  of  name  !" 

He  pressed  rny  hand  and  answered: 

"You  must  be  spokesman,  then  —  for 
at  p\escnt  I  am  unable  to  express  my 
feelings." 

"Be  it  so  —  but  you  must  acfo-^panv 
me  ;  "  and  advancing  to  Prairie  1-iower,  J 
took  her  hand  and  said  : 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST 


81 


"I  give  you  joy,  Ev  aline  Mortimer!  — 
»nd  sc  does  my  friend  here,  though  at 
present  too  bashful  to  say  it." 

Both  Huntly  and  Evaline  blushed  and 
became  embarrassed.  But  quickly  recov 
ering  herself,  the  latter  returned  : 

"  I  thank  you  —  thank  you  both  —  from 
my  heart.  "But  for  you,  this  might  never 
haTO  been  ;  "  and  her  eyes  instantly  filled 
with  grateful  tears. 

"  But  for  you,  dear  Evaline,"  rejoined  I, 
"  toe  might  never  have  been  here.  The 
obligation  is  on  our  side  —  we  are  the 
debtors." 

'/  Prairie  Flower,"  began  Huntly,  taking 
the  disengaged  hand  and  making  an  effort 
to  command  himself — "  Or  rather,  I  should 
say,  Evaline  —  I — I Well,  you  un 
derstand  !  Imagine  all  I  would  say  —  for 
just  now  I  can  say  nothing." 

"  Bravo,  Charley  ! "  said  I,  laughing  and 
giving  him  a  friendly  slap  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Bravo,  my  dear  fellow !  Spoken  like 
yourself!  " 

"  Hush  ! "  he  returned,  with  a  gesture 
of  displeasure  ;  "do  not  jest  with  me  now, 
Frank ! " 

Meantime  I  noticed  that  Evt  und  Lilian 
watched  the  features  of  both  Evaline  and 
Charles  closely,  and  then  whispered  to 
each  other,  and  smiled,  and  again  looked 
earnestly  at  each. 

The  secret  is  out,  thought  I. 

At  this  moment  Madame  Mortimer,  ob 
serving  us  together,  approached  and  ad 
dressed  my  friend  with  a  bland  smile  : 

"  Said  I  not,  Charles,  that  the  heroine 
of  this  life-romance  must  necessarily  be  a 
personage  of  consequence  ?  " 

"  And  I  am  rejoiced  your  words  are 
verified. "  was  the  reply. 

"  Thank  you  !  and  thank  God,  I  have 
found  them  verified  in  a  way  I  little  ex 
pected  !  But  all  heroines,  you  know,  must 
tall  in  love  !  "  she  added,  laughing.  "  How 
13  it  in  the  present  case,  eh  ?  " 

"  It  turns  out  on  the  most  approved 
plan,"  I  answered  pointedly,  glancing  at 
both  Charles  and  Evaline,  who,  judging 
from  their  looks,  wished  themselves  for  the 
moment,  anywhere  but  where  they  stood. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it,"  rejoined  the 
good  dame. 

"And   how  is  it  with  you,   Eva?" -I 


"  Why,  I  suppose  I  must  resign  all  pre 
tensions,"  she  replied,  in  her  wonted  light 
tone.  "  Of  course  I  was  anxious  to  make 
a  conquest — as  what  young  lady  is  not? 
But  I  see  there  is  no  chance  for  me,"  she 
pursued,  glancing  slyly  at  my  friend  ;  "  and 
so  I  will  e'en  make  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
pretend  I  don't  care  anything  about  it, 
and,  heigh-ho !  look  some  where  else, 
with  the  old  motto,  '  Better  luck  next  time.' 
Ay,"  she  added,  springing  to  the  blushing 
Evaline,  and  imprinting  a  kiss  on  her  sweet 
lips,  "  I  am  too  happy  in  linding  a  sister, 
to  mourn  long  for  a  lover — more  especially 
if  a  certain  somebody  (again  glancing  at 
Charles,)  has  any  design  of  becoming  a 
relation." 

"  Well  said  !  "  I  rejoined.  "  And  now, 
Charley—" 

"  Hist !  "  he  exclaimed,  interrupting  and 
dragging  me  away.  "  Come,"  he  added. 
"  let  us  take  a  stroll ; "  and  arm-in-arm 
we  quitted  the  cottage. 

Considerable  of  a  crowd  had  already 
collected  around  our  Indian  friends,  and 
were  listening  to  a  story  from  Teddy,  who, 
as  he  privately  expressed  himself  to  me, 
"  Was  in  all  the  glory  of  making  the 
spalpeens  belave  himself  and  us  the  he 
roes  of  a  hundred  mighty  fights,  and 
bathels,  and  scrimmages,  and  hair-length 
escapes,  and  thim  things." 

Among  the  number  present,  I  recognis 
ed  several  of  my  old  acquaintances,  who 
appeared  much  delighted  to  see  me,  and 
to  whom  I  introduced  my  long  lost  friend. 
After  the  usual  commonplace  observations 
were  over,  I  turned  to  Teddy,  and  gave 
him  instructions  to  conduct  the  Indians 
into  the  cottage  forthwith,  and  then  see  to 
having  their  horses  well  taken  care  of.; 
This  done,  Huntly  and  I  sauntered  down 
through  the  village,  to  note  the  improve 
ments,  and  talk  over  the  important  events 
of  the  last  few  hours. 

As  Lilian  remarked  I  would,  I  found  the 
village  of  Oregon  City  greatly  altered  foi 
the  better,  and  that  it  had  already  begun 
to  assume  the  appearance  of  a  thriving 
settlement.  During  the  past  season  there 
had  been  a  large  iaflux  of  population  from 
the  East,  the  effects  of  which  were  every 
where  visible  in  new  dwellings  and  work 
shops.  Some  three  or  tour  merchants  had 
come  on  with  goods,  opened  stores,  and 


LENI    LEOTI;    OR, 


were  now  doing  a  thriving  business,  in  dis 
posing  of  their  commodities  at  the  most 
extravagant  prices.  A  grist-mill  and  saw 
mill  had  also  been  erected  on  the  Willia- 
tnette,  and  were  now  in  active  operation — 
the  tbrmer  grinding  out  the  staff  of  life, 
nnd  the  latter  supplying  such  of  the  set 
tlers  as  desired  habitations  superior  to  log 
cabins,  with  the  necessary  materials  for 
more  finished  building.  Here  and  there 
were  the  workshops  of  the  carpenter, 
blacksmith)  saddler,  shoemaker,  and  tailor 
— and,  in  short,  everything  necessary  ap 
parently  to  a  business  place. 

Strolling  down  to  the  Williamette,  we 
halted  upon  a  bluff  overlooking  the  roman 
tic  stream,  and,  as  chance  would  have  it 
upon  the  very  spot  where  I  had  offered  my 
hand  to  Lilian. 

"  Here,  Charley,"  said  I,  "  is  ground 
which  to  me  is  sacred.  Can  you  not 
guess  from  what  cause  ?  " 

He  only  answered  by  pressing  my  arm 
and  heaving  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Come,"  added  I,  smiling,  "  a  wager  I 
can  guess  your  thoughts  !  " 
"  Well,  say  on." 
"  You  are  thinking  of  Evaline." 
He  changed  color,  and  sighed  :  "Well?" 
'*  And  now  you  begin  to  have  doubts 
that  all  may  not  terminate  as  you  desire  !  " 
"  You  are  good  at  guessing,"  he  rejoin 
ed,  gazing  solemnly  down  upon  the  cur 
rent  below. 

"  Courage,  man  ! "  rejoined  I.  •'  Never 
despair  on  the  point  of  victory  !  " 

"  Ah  ! "  he  sighed,  "  if  I  could  be  as 
sured  of  that." 

"  Assured,  Charley  !  What  more  as 
surance  would  you  have  ?  She  loves  you, 
I  will  vfoch  for  that ;  and  now  that  the 
mystery  hanging  over  her  early  life  is 
cleared  up,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  be 
yourself  and  ask  her  hand." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  he  cried,  sudden 
ly  confronting  me  with  an  eager  look. 
"  Do  you  think  so,  Frank  ?  " 

"  D'o  I  think  so  ?  "  I  repeated.    "  Why, 
where  is  your  wonted  assurance  ?     Do  I 
think  so  ?     No  !  I  do  not  think — I  know  !" 
"  But  I — I — somehow — I  have  my  mis 
givings." 


"  Pshaw  !  my  friend — lovt's  misgiving* 
only.  If  you  had  not  these,  I  should  put 
it  down  as  a  solemn  fact  that  vou  did  not 
love.  She  has  her  misgivings,  too  —  but 
they  spring  from  the  same  source  as  yours, 
and  amount  to  exactly  the  same  thing — 
that  is,  nothing.  Why,  how  you  have 
changed  !  You  are  as  timid  as  a  schoolboy 
at  his  first  public  declamation,  :ind  trenv 
ble  more  in  the  presence  of  one  beautiful 
being,  than  you  did  in  the  clutches  of  a 
fierce  banditti.  Throw  aside  this  foolish 
bashfulness,  and  act  like  a  sensible  fellow. 
There  is  nothing  so  very  alarming  in  tell 
ing  a  young  maiden  you  love  and  adore 
her,  when  you  once  set  yourself  about  it. 
I  have  tried  it,  and  speak  from  experience. 
Once,  I  remember,  you  talked  the  matter 
of  matrimony  over  as  deliberately  as  if 
making  a  bargain  and  sale — purchasing  or 
transferring  property." 

"  Ay,"  he  answered,  musingly,  "but  TR 
was  merely  talk  then — now  it  is  quite  i 
different  thing.  If — if — she  should  re 
fuse » 

"  Nonsense  !  "  interrupted  I,  laughing 
and  then  added,  imitating  him  :  "  If — if— 
you  should  refuse,  why "  , 

"  Cease  !  "  he  exclaimed,  almost  angri 
ly.  "  Why  will  you  be  ever  jesting, 
Frank  ?  " 

"  That  I  may  bring  you  to  sober  earn 
est,  Charley." 

In  like  conversation  we  whiled  away  at 
hour  or  two,  and  then  returned  to  the  cot 
tage —  Huntly  in  a  better  flow  of  spirits 
than  I  had  seen  him  for  many  a  day. 

The  news  of  our  arrival  —  the  restora 
tion  of  a  long  lost  daughter  to  the  armii 
of  her  mother — together  with  exaggerated 
and  marvellous  reports  of  the  whole  affair 
had  already  made  the  dwelling  of  Mrs. 
Huntly  a  place  of  attraction  to  the  villag 
ers,  whom  we  here  found  collected  in 
goodly  numbers  of  both  sexes.  In  fact, 
ihe  house  was  thronged  throughout  the 
day,  and  both  Huntly  and  myself  were 
kept  busy  in  recounting  our  exploits  to 
curious  and  eager  listeners. 

Night,  however,  came  at  last,  and  witb 
its  approach  departed  cur  visiters,  mucl) 
to  our  relief  and  gratification. 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR     WEST 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

NIK     TALE    OF     EVALINE     MORTIMER BRIEF 

HISTORY"     OF     THE     MYSTERIOUS     TRIBE 

Til  SIR     PERSECUTION,    MASSACRE,    FLIGHT, 

PROSPERITY    AND     ADVKUSITY MORE    MYS" 

TKRV SPECULATIONS  OF    MADAME    MORTI 
MER — EARLY    IMPRESSIONS    OF    EVALINE 

HER  EDUCATION ROVING   LIFE,   ETC. 

IT  was  about  an  hour  after  nightfall,  that, 
everything  having  become  quiet,  we  form 
ed  a  pleasant  circle  before  a  bright  fire,  in 
the  dwelling  of  Mrs.  Huntly,  to  hear  the 
tale  of  Evaline  Mortimer.  Throughout 
the  day,  all  had  been  too  busy  in  enter 
taining  guests  to  attend  to  private  affairs  ; 
but  now  the  transient  visitors  had  depart 
ed,  and  none  were  by  to  listen  save  those 
most  deeply  interested.  Evaline,  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  had  managed  to  steal 
away  for  an  hour,  during  which  she  had 
opc-ned  her  "  treasure-box,"  as  she  termed 
it.  wherein  she  had  found  a  parchment  in 
the  hand-writing  of  Great  Medicine,  whose 
contents  she  had  eagerly  devoured,  and 
Uie  substance  of  which,  together  with  what 
she  knew  of  herself,  she  was  now  about 
t«j  lay  before  us. 

"  Come,"  said  Madame  Mortimer,  after 
some  trifling  conversation  had  passed  : 
"Come,  dear  Evaline,  now  for  the  ro 
mance  of  your  life  !  We  are  all  eager  for 
the  story." 

"And  when  I  have  told  it,"  said  Eva- 
line  in  reply,  smiling  sweetly,  "I  shall 
have  told  a  tale  to  which  no  mortal  ear 
has  ever  before  listened,  and  a  portion  of 
which  has  been  unknown  to  myself  till 
within  the  last  few  hours.  I  have  exam 
ined  the  record  of  Great  Medicine,  and 
find  much  therein  I  did  not  know  before  ; 
but  still,  with  all  the  knowledge  gained 
therefrom,  I  should  have  remained  igno 
rant  of  the  most  important  period  of  my 
history — important  to  me  at  least — but  for 
this  providential  meeting  with  my  dear 
mother  and  sister,  the  former  of  whom 
can  pei haps  put  the  connecting  link  be 
tween  what  I  know  and  my  birth. 

"  As  the  scroll  of  Great  Medicine  is  in 
»  language  to  you  unintelligible,  and  us 


the  narration  on  the  whole  is  ather  dis 
connected,  I  will,  with  your  permission, 
omit  a  translation,  and  tell  the  story  in  my 
own  way,  and  thus  in  a  more  direct  form 
bring  to  bear  all  the  knowledge  I  have  re 
garding  myself  and  those  with  whom  my 
fortune  has  been  linked. 

"  My  earliest  impressions  are  of  Great 
Medicine,  and  the  Indians  with  whom  he 
was  associated.  Of  his  early  history  I 
could  never  learn  anything  authentic.  It 
was  current  with  the  tribe,  that  he  had 
come  from  afar,  had  formerly  been  a  great 
chief,  and  was  now  the  sole  remnant  of 
his  race.  Some  twelve  or  fifteen  year's 
prior  to  the  period  I  speak  of — or  say  a 
little  more  than  thirty  years  ago — he  haa 
appeared  among  the  various  tribes  then 
located  in  one  of  the  more  eastern  terri 
tories,  and  had  brought  with  him  three 
white  missionaries  of  the  Moravian  school, 
who  at  once  set  to  work  to  convert  the 
savages  to  the  Christian  faith.  The  influ 
ence  of  the  old  man — for  even  then  Great 
Medicine  was  well  advanced  in  years  — 
tended  much  to  allay  the  vindictive  feel 
ings  which  the  savages  were  disposed  to 
manifest  toward  his  white  friends,  and  to 
which  they  were  secretly  urged  on  by 
British  agents  —  this,  as  you  will  bear  in 
mind,  being  the  period  of  the  commence 
ment  of  hostilities  between  America  and 
Great  Britain.  The  result  of  the  matter 
was,  that  several  of  the  Indians  became 
converts  to  the  true  faith,  renounced  the 
barbarisms  of  their  ancestors,  and  threw 
down  their  war  implements  to  take  them 
up  no  more.  These  converts  were  of  va 
rious  tribes,  and  were  subsequently  by 
each  tribe  denounced  as  imposters  and 
coward  squaws,  and  persecuted  in  many 
cases  even  to  the  death  —  so  that  the  sur 
vivors  were  obliged  to  abandon  their  home* 
and  seek  safety  in  flight.  These  fugitive.1;, 
by  an  arrangement  of  Great  Medicine,  all 
gathered  together,  and  in  solemn  conclave 
formed  themselves  into  a  tribe,  of  which 
he  was  appointed  chief — or  rather  Great 
Medicine  —  for  the  title  of  chief  was  bj 
them  abolished.  A  mode  of  worship  wa"» 
then  established,  of  which  several  songs, 
composed  by  the  missionaries,  formed  a 
striking  feature,  and  made  the  ceremonie» 
more  impressive  than  they  might  other 
wise  have  been." 


LENI    LEOTI;    OR, 


"And  these  songs,"  interrupted  I, 
"  were  the  same  you  once  translated  to 
roe?" 

"The  same,"  answered  the  sweet  nar 
rator,  "  with  the  exception  of  what  they 
may  have  gained  or  lost  by  the  peculiar 
dialect  finally  adopted  by  the  new-formed 
tribe.  The  ceremonies  of  this  tribe,"  she 
continued,  "were  not  all  established  at 
once,  and  may  now  differ  somewhat  from 
those  of  the  time  in  question,  though  the 
same  I  believe  in  the  main  features. 

'•  As  the  Indian,  by  nature  and  associa 
tion,  is  peculiarly  fitted  to  believe  in  the 
marvellous,  it  is  not  surprising  that  some 
portion  of  this  reverence  for  the  supernatu 
ral  should  have  clung  to  those  of  the  new 
faith  ;  and  in  consequence  of  this,  Great 
Medicine  was  supposed  to  be  invested  with 
powers  beyond  the  mere  mortal.  Whether 
or  no  he  believed  this  of  himself,  I  am  un 
able  to  say  ;  but  certain  it  is,  he  took  care 
the  rest  should  think  so  ;  and  ever  exclud1 
ing  himself  from  the  tribe,  except  when 
Ins  presence  was  absolutely  necessary,  he 
succeeded  by  his  peculiarities,  eccentrici 
ties,  strange  incantations  and  the  like,  in 
drawing  around  himself  a  vail  of  mystery 
which  none  ever  presumed  to  penetrate. 
On  the  whole,  he  was  a  very  strange  be 
ing  ;  and  though  all  loved,  all  feared  him  ; 
and  none  ever  knew  for  a  certainty  who 
he  was  or  whence  he  came.  If  one  pre 
sumed  to  question  him,  it  was  only  for  once. 
The  silent  look  he  received  from  that  small, 
dark  eye,  was  enough.  It  thrilled  and 
overawed  him,  and  he  turned  away  resolv 
ed  never  to  question  again.  Even  I,  whom 
he  ever  treated  with  affectionate  care  — 
who  was  constantly  admitted  to  his  pres 
ence  when  all  others  were  excluded — who 
had  the  advantage  of  being  with  him  in 
his  most  meditative  and  communicative 
moods  —  even  1,  was  never  made  wiser 
than  my  companions.  As  I  have  said  once 
before,  he  ever  remained  an  enigma  with 
out  a  solution.  Like  the  rest,  I  loved  and 
I  feared  him  — with  this  difference,  per 
haps —  that  the  former  with  me  was  the 
stronger  of  the  two  passions.  But  to  re 
turn  from  this  slight  digression. 

"  The,  tribe  organized  under  the  control 
ol"  Great  Medicine,  for  a  time  flourished 
well,  and  constantly  increased  by  new 
converts  from  the  neighboring  tribes.  But 


this  nearly  proved  its  overthrow.  Tim 
savages  at  last  became  jealous,  and  de 
clared  if  this  state  of  things  continued, 
their  villages  would  become  depopulated. 
They  swore  revenge,  and  took  it,  and  most 
dire  revenge  it  was.  They  made  a  de 
scent  upon  their  harmless  friends,  ami 
with  ruthless  hands  slew  their  own  rela 
tives,  and  took  the  missionaries  captives, 
whom  they  afterward  put  to  the  tortures- 
It  was  a  terrible  massacre  —  a  massacre 
without  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  vic 
tims,  whose  peculiar  tenets  of  religion 
forbade  them  to  tight  even  in  defense  of 
their  lives.  At  one  fell  swoop  nearly  all 
were  cutoff.  None,  upon  whom  the  blood 
thirsty  assailants  laid  hands,  were  spared. 
Women  and  children  —  the  infant  at  the 
breast  —  the  promising  youth  and  tender 
maiden — the  man  in  the  prime  of  life  and 
the  hoary-headed  veteran  :  all  were  alike 
victims — all  shared  one  common  fate — all 
found  a  bloody  grave." 

"  What  a  terrible  scene  ! "  exclaimed 
Madame  Mortimer,  shuddering. 

"  Terrible  !  terrible  !  "  echoed  Lilian 
and  Eva. 

"  And  how  many  do  you  suppose  per 
ished?"  asked  Mrs.  Iluntly. 

"  I  cannot  say,"  answered  Evalinu 
"  All  I  know  is,  that  only  a  few  escaped— - 
some  half  a  dozen  I  believe — among  whom 
was  Great  Medicine.  They  fled  fast  an  J 
far,  to  another  part  of  the  wilderness,  biJ 
still  firm  in  that  faith  by  which  they  had 
been  so  sorely  tried.  When  hundreds  of 
miles  had  been  placed  between  them  ani 
their  fierce  enemies,  they  paused  in  theii 
flight,  and  selecting  a  pleasant  spot,  erec>. 
ed  a  few  huts,  and  continued  their  dev< 
tion  as  before.  Here  they  were  visited  br 
other  tribes,  who,  knowing  nothing  of 
their  history,  and  struck  with  their  peculi 
arities  and  mode  of  worship,  treated  them 
with  great  respect  and  reverence,  and 
called  them  the  Wahsochee  —  equivalent 
to  the  English  word  Mysterious — by  which 
name  and  the  title  of  their  founder  they 
have  ever  since  been  known. 

"  Here  Providence  again  favored  them, 
and  then  numbers  increased  very  rapidly 
Their  fame  spread  far  and  wide  over  this 
vast  wilderness,  and  bold  warriors  from 
distant  tribes  came  to  see  them,  many  of 
whom  remained,  converts  to  their  faiiU. 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST 


fa  this  manner  the  Wahsochee  village 
again  became  populous  ;  and  the  different 
tribes,  though  at  deadly  enmity  with  one 
another,  all  concurred  in  respecting  and 
leaving  them  unmolested.  As  those  who 
joined"  them  were  among  the  most  intelli 
gent  of  their  race,  and  as  these  were  from 
a  great  many  nations,  the  language  of  each 
w-.is  gradually  introduced,  until,  besides  a 
dialect  of  their  own,  the  tribe  had  the  ad 
vantage  of  understanding  that  of  almost 
rvery  other  of  note. 

"Thus  for  several  years  all  went  on 
prosperous,  and  their  number  had  aug 
mented  from  six  to  an  hundred  and  fifty, 
when  that  fatal  malady,  the  small-pox  broke 
out  and  swept  off  four-fifths  of  the  nation. 
From  this  awful  blow  they  never  fully  re 
covered — at  least,  never  to  be  what  they 
were  before — for  many  who  were  on  the 
point  of  joining  them,  were  deterred  by 
what  they  declared  to  be  the  angry  frown 
of  the  Great  Spirit ;  and  although  other 
tribes  were  scourged  in  like  manner,  still 
ihe  more  superstitious  contended  that  the 
Wahsochee  religion  could  not  be  good,  or 
'.he  Great  Spirit  would  not  have  been  angry 
with  them,  even  though  he  were  with  their 
neighbors. 

•'  This  latter  affliction  occurred  some  two 
jeais  prior  to  my  being  brought  among 
them,  of  which  mysterious  event  I  shall 
now  proceed  to  speak,  as  I  find  it  recorded 
by  Great  Medicine  himself." 

"  Permit  me  a  word,  Evaline,  before 
you  proceed  farther!  "  said  I,  interrupting 
her.  "Since  you  have  briefly  given  the 
history  of  the  Mysterious  Tribe,  may  I  in 
quire  why  it  was,  on  our  first  acquaintance, 
you  so  strongly  insisted  I  should  question 
you  not  concerning  yourself  or  compan 
ions  ?" 

"  In  the  first  place,"  she  answered, 
*'  Great  Medicine  had  expressly  declared 
(and  his  word  was  law  wilh  us)  that  no 
thing  of  our  history  must  be  told  to  stran 
gers,  whose  desire  to  know,  as  a  general 
thing  would  proceed  from  idle  curiosity, 
to  gratify  which  would  avail  us  nothin". 
fn  the  second  place,  of  my  early  history  I 
was  ignorant — at  least  of  that'  which  re 
ferred  to  iny  parentage — and  to  be  ques 
tioned,  ever  caused  me  the  most  painful 
embarrassment ;  besides,  of  what  I  did 
kt  ow,  I  had  promised  th-  old  man  .to 
ft 


reveal  nothing.  I  knew  I  was  not  of  th« 
Indian  race  ;  but  to  admit  this  would  lead 
to  a  thousand  other  inquiries,  which  conld 
not  be  answered,  and  which  I  felt  a  stran 
ger  had  no  right  to  make.  Are  you  an 
swered  ?  " 

"  Fully  and  satisfactorily.  Go  on  witk 
your  story  ! " 

"  The  location  of  the  tribe,  at  the  period 
of  which  I  now  speak,"  proceeded  Eva- 
line,  "  was  near  the  Des  Moines  river,  in 
the  southern  part  of  that  territory  since 
known  as  Iowa.  While  the  tribe  remained 
here,  it  was  customary  for  Great  Medicine 
to  make  a  journey  to  St.  Louis,  as  often  as 
once  a  year,  to  trade  his  furs,  skins, embroi 
dered  moccasins  and  the  like,  for  powder, 
lead,  beads,  blankets,  and  whatever  else 
he  fancied  the  tribe  might  need.  On  hia 
return  from  one  of  these  excursions,  (so  he 
gives  the  story,)  and  when  some  ten  miles 
above  St.  Louis,  having  fallen  behind  hi* 
party,  he  was  overtaken  by  a  fierce-look: 
ing  horseman,  who  bore  in  his  arms  a  littty 
girl  some  two  or  three  years  of  age,  and  who 
at  once  accosting  him  in  a  very  gruff  man" 
ner,  demanded  whither  he  was  going.  Thi» 
horseman,  he  says,  was  a  very  villainous- 
looking  white  man,  who  wore  a  long  flow 
ing  beard,  had  a  black,  fiery  eye,  was  short 
in  stature,  and  heavy  set. 

"On  hearing  the  reply  of  Great  Medi 
cine,  the  former  drew  a  pistol  and  dis 
mounted,  ordering  him  to  do  the  same. 
Once,  he  writes,  he  would  have  shot  and 
scalped  the  bold  intruder  without  a  word  ; 
but  now  he  had  no  such  thoughts  ;  and  he 
obeyed  him  in  silence,  wondering  what 
was  to  come  next. 

"'Here  is  a  brat,'  said  the  stranger, 
pointing  to  the  child  now  crouching  at  his 
feet,  '  which  I  wish  out  of  the  way,  and 
am  too  much  of  a  coward  to  effect  my  de 
sires.  Take  her,  it  is  your  calling,  and 
here  is  gold.' 

" '  You  are  mistaken  in  me,'  replied 
Great  Medicine,  '  if  you  suppose  I  will  aid 
your  base  ?nds.  I  would  not  kill*  that  in 
nocent  little  creature  to  own  the  world.' 

"  '  By ! '  replied  the  other,  making 

use  of  an  oath  ;  '  and  you  an  Indian  and 

say  this  !     What  in  the  name  of aila 

the  child,  that  all  fear  to  harm  her  ?  She 
must  die  though  ;  and  if  you  will  not  un 
dertake  the  job,  why,  then  thcrt  is  noothei 


LENI     LEOTI;    OR, 


•Iternalive  ;  '  and  be  placed  his  pistol  to 
her  head. 

"'Stay!'  cried  the  old  man,  beseech 
ingly;  'I  will  not  harm  her  myself  ;  but 
if  you  wish  to  rid  yourself  of  hrr,  I  will 
consent  to  place  her  far  from  civilization, 
nnd  aciopt  her  into  my  tribe.' 

"'  But  she  is  a  child  of  consequence,' 
pursued  the  other,  '  the  daughter  of  one 
who  is  a  great  ehirf  in  his  own  country,  and 
stands  between  me  and  fortune.  Should 
she  return  -  ' 

'•  '  There  is  no  likelihood  of  that,'  inter 
rupted  the  other,  '  as  I  shall  take  her  some 
hundreds  of  miles  into  the  wilderness.' 

"  '  But  her  father,  who  knows  nothing 
of  my  design,  and  to  whom  I  must  report 
her  lost  or  dead,  may  institute  search. 
How  do  I  know  she  may  not  be  found  ?  ' 

"  '  That  I  think  impossible,'  rejoined  the 
old  man. 

"'But  this  will  make  all  sure,'  con 
tinued  the  dark  stranger  again  pointing  the 
pistol  at  her  head. 

"  '  Nay,  hold  !  '  cried  the  other  in  alarm, 
'  If  you  dare  to  murder  her,  I  will  make 
her  spirit  haunt  you  forever  !  ' 

"  '  You  make  her  spirit  haunt  me  ! 
Umph  !  what  are  you  but  a  decrepid  old 
Indian  ?  By  heavens  !  I  have  a  mind  to 
murder  you  both.  But  I  hate  murder  ; 
for  in  fact  one  never  feels  safe  afterward. 
Do  you  believe  in  a  God,  old  man  ?  —  for 
you  talk  as  one  the  world  denominates 
Christian.' 

"'I  do  believe  in  a  God,'  answered 
Great  Medicine  ;  '  and  if  you  dare  to  harm 
this  child,  His  just  retribution  shall  follow 
you  even  to  the  remotest  bounds  of  earth 
and  time.' 

"  The  other  paused,  reflected,  and  then 


"  *  I  would  not  have  her  blood  upon  my 
ioul.  for  I  have  sin  enough  there  already. 
You  think  there  is  no  danger  of  her  being 
discovered  ?  ' 

"•  Not  the  least.' 

"  •  And  you  say  you  believe  in  a  God  ?  ' 

"  •  I  do.' 

"  '  You  hope  for  salvation,  as  men  term 
«?' 

••  '-I  do.' 

"  '  Then  swear,  by  your  hopes  of  salva 
tion,  to  kc-rp  her  among  the  Indians  as 
long  as  you  live  —  to  adopt  her  into  your 


tribe,  and  never  to  mortal  ear  to  reveal  ft 
word  concerning  this  interview,  or  how 
she  came  in  your  possession — that  you 
will  never  attempt  to  trace  out  b—  parent 
age,  nor  make  any  inquiries  concerning 
her — swear  this,  and  she  is  yours.  Re 
fuse,  and  her  death  and  yours  is  the  pen 
alty.' 

"  '  I  swear  to  all/  answered  Great  Mcdi 
cine. 

"  *  Enough  !  take  her  and  speed  hee  U> 
the  wilderness  ;  while  I  will  away  and  re 
port  her  dead — murdered  by  the  Indians/ 
he  added,  with  a  grim  smile.  Then  leap 
ing-  upon  his  horse,  he  muttered  as  he 
turned  away  :  '  All  is  safe,  I  think,  for  we 
shall  soon  be  over  the  water;'  and  the 
next  moment  both  horse  and  rider  were 
lost  in  the  forest. 

"•'This  child/  writes  Great  Medicine, 
'  behold  in  yourself,  Prairie  Flower  !  and 
this  is  all  I  know  of  your  early  history/ 

"  Strange  !  "  said  Madam  Mortimer,  mu 
singly.  "  Here  is  more  mystery — 1  do  not 
understand  it.  Who  could  have  been  this 
horseman  ?  and  what  the  meaning  of  hia 
words  ?  As  you  were  stolen  away  on  tho 
night  succeeding  my  desertion  by  your  fa 
ther,  I  had  ever  supposed  —  or  hoped, 
rather — you  had  been  taken  away  by  him, 
and  with  him,  wherever  he  went ;  and  thi$ 
hope  proved  my  only  comfort  in  affiiction. 
But  now  I  do  not  know  what  to  think.  Tbi» 
horseman  could  not  have  been  your  father, 
for  the  description  is  not  at  all  like  him. 
The  latter  was  tall — dark  complexioned,  it 
is  true — but  with  tine  features  and  hand 
some  person.  And  then  he  referred  l«> 
your  father,  as  knowing  nothing  of  this 
dark  transaction,  and  termed  him  a  great 
chief  in  his  country,  and  said  you  were 
standing  between  him  and  fortune.  M'hav 
could  he  have  meant  by  this  last?  Your 
father  had  no  fortune  to  my  knowledge, 
and  mine  was  so  fixed  he  could  not  get  it, 
Ha !  a  thought  strikes  me.  He  was  an 
exile  from  his  native  land — though  for 
what  he  would  never  U:T1  me— would  never 
speak  of  his  early  history.  It  is  possible 
he  may  have  been  a  personage  of  conse 
quence,  banished  for  some  state  intrigue, 
and  airain  restored.  It  may  be  he  had 
news  of  this  when  he  came  to  declare  hit 
intention  of  leaving  me.  And  now  I  re 
member,  he  once  intimated  that  he  would 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


•ottie  day  he  independent  of  me,  though  I ; 
<hd  not  know  what  was  meant.     This  must  j 
be  it ! "  she  continued,  as  if  soliloquizing  ;  j 
"  tills  must  be  it !  and  this  stranger,  some  \ 
fiend  in  human  form,  plotting  to  succeed  i 
him    in  wealth    and    station.       Oh  !    the  j 
wickedness  of  all  mankind  !     But  I   for 
get,    my   friends,    you   do    not   know  of 
what  I  speak,  as  I  have  never  told  you  my 
Listory." 

"  Nay,  madam."  returned  I,  "  we  know- 
more  than  you  think." 

"  Indeed  !  and  how  ?  " 

Lilian  blushed,  and  I  became  embarrass 
ed — for  I  felt  I  had,  in  my  heedlessness, 
said  a  word  too  much. 

"  Pardon  me  !  "  I  returned,  "  and  do  not 
blame  my  informant !  I  must  own  I  have 
heard  the  tale  before.  But  you  will  not 
regret  it,  perhaps,  when  I  say,  that  to  this 
very  knowledge,  you  are  partially,  if  not 
ent-rely,  indebted  for  the  presence  of  your 
long  lost  daughter." 

"  I  blame  no  one,"  she  answered  solemn 
ly  ;  "for  all,  in  the  hands  of  God,  lias 
worked  for  my  good.  I  understand  it 
all,"  she  added,  glancing  at  Lilian  and 
Eva.  "  These  tell-tale  blushes  reveal  the 
truth.  Eva  told  Lilian  in  confidence,  and 
love  wrung  from  her  the  secret.  I  am 
glad  it  is  so.  You  are  all  my  friends,  and 
the  tale  by  rights  belongs  to  you.  I  might 
never  have  told  it  myself,  unless  on  an  oc 
casion  like  this — for  I  do  not  care  to  have 
the  cold,  idle  world  speculating  and  jesting 
on  the  secrets  of  what  has  long  been  an 
unhappy,  if  not  wretched  heart.  In  my 
younger  days,  I  was  headstrong  and  rash, 
and  clicl  many  a  wrong,  as  I  have  since  felt 
to  my  cost — and  might  have  done  more, 
perhaps,  but  for  my  dear  daughter  Eva's 
Bake,  /y!  for  her,  I  may  say,  I  lived; 
for  had  'he  been  taken  from  me,  the  grave 
ere  tm>had  covered  a  broken  heart." 

Her  last  words  were  said  in  a  trembling 
voice-  and  with  deep  emotion. 

"  God  bless  you,  mother  !  "  exclaimed 
Eva  in  a  tone  which  brought  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  all  present. 

"  He  has  bl<;sscd  me,  my  child — blessed 
mt  teyond  my  deserts.  Had  I  been  what 
I  should  have  been,  perchance  your  father 
bad  never  left  me,  my  daughters.  But 
enough  of  this.  'Tis  past  now — gone  be 
yond  recall — and  the  i-esult  is  before  us. 


But  go  on,  dear  Ev aline — go  on  with  your 
story  ! " 

"  Were  1  to  tell  the  whole,"  resumed 
the  latter,  "  it  would  take  me  hours — nay 
days — but  that  I  shall  not  attempt  to- night, 
only  so  far  as  relates  to  my  earliest  years 
and  earliest  impressions.  In  future  1  wil 
give  you  more,  little  by  little,  until  you 
get  the  whole. 

"  As  I  have  said  previously,  my  earliest 
recollections  are  of  Great  Medicine  and 
his  tribe.  I  remember  his  dark,  keen  eye, 
and  of  his  gazing  upon  me  for  hours,  when 
none  were  by,  and  he  thought  I  did  not 
notice  him.  *  But  I  was  older  in  thought 
than  he  was  aware  of;  and  I  used  to  won 
der  at  this  singularity,  when  he  believed 
I  wondered  at  nothing.  I  remember  many 
and  many  a  time  of  kneeling  down  to  a 
spring  of  clear  water,  gazing  at  my  fea 
tures,  and  wondering  why  I  was  so  differ- 
ent  from  my  companions.  I  saw,  even 
then,  that  my  features  were  fairer  and  of 
an  entirely  different  cast ;  and  this,  to  my 
young  fancy,  seemed  most  strange,  as  I 
believed  myself  of  the  same  race  as  those 
around  me.  Great  Medicine  1  then  thought 
my  father — for  so  he  bade  me  call  him, 
and  so  i  did.  As  I  grew  older,  this  con 
trast —  this  difference  in  person  —  struck 
me  more  and  more,  and  at  last  I  made 
bold  to  interrogate  the  old  man  concern 
ing  it. 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  his  look,  as  I,  in 
childish  simplicity,  asked  the  question. 
He  started,  as  if  stung  by  a  serpent,  and 
his  small  black  eyes  fastened  upon  mine  as 
though  to  read  my  very  soul.  Never  had 
I  feared  him  till  then.  There  was  a  wild 
fascination  in  that  gaze,  which  thrilled  and 
overawed  me,  and  made  my  own  seek  the 
ground.  Never  shall  I  forget  his  words, 
as  he  advanced  and  took  my  hand.  It 
was  not  so  much  what  he  said,  as  his 
impressive  manner  of  saying  it. 

"'  Child,'  he  replied,  'you  seek  to  know 
too  much,  and  the  knowledge  you  seek 
would  render  you  in  future  years  the  most 
unhappy  of  mortals.  Something  I  feel 
you  must  now  know — and  this  it  is  :  You 
are  not  of  my  race  ;  you  are  a  pale-face ; 
I  am  your  guardian.  Seek  to  know  no 
more,  for  all  is  dark  beyond.  Be  one  of 
us,  and  be  happy  in  ignorance.  Breatlu1 
this  1  have  told  you  to  no  mortal  ear  !  and 


LENI    LEOTJ;    OR, 


never,  never  question  me  again.  You 
promise,  girl  ?  "'  he  added 

'•'  [  do.' 

"'Enough!     Go!' 

"  1  left  his  presence  a  changed  being, 
though  he  knew  it  not  ;  for  his  strange 
hmgu  ige  and  manner  had  roused  that  eter 
nal  thirst  for  knowledge,  which  he  had 
thought  and  sought  to  allay.  1  questioned 
i'im  no  more  ;  but  his  singular  words  I 
j  on',! e red  in  secret. 

"  '  There  is  mystery  here,'  I  would  re- 
pvat  to  myself  ;  but  1  took  care  to  repeat 
it  to  no  other  human  being. 

'•  To  detail  my  strange  conjectures  from 
that  time  forth,  would  be  to  lay  bare  the 
secret  workings  of  an  ever  active  ^piiit. 
I  shall  not  attempt  it,  but  leave  it  to  your 
imagination. 

"  About  this  period,  a  few  missionaries 
set  up  a  temporary  station  near  our  locali 
ty,  for  the  double  purpose  of  making  con 
verts  to  their  faith  and  imparting  know 
ledge  to  the  unenlightened  Indians,  bv 
teaching  them  to  rt-ad  and  write.  At  the 
request  of  Great  Medicine,  three  of  their 
number  came. and  took  up  their  abode  with 
us,  for  the  latter  purpose.  I  was  at  once 
placed  ur.der  their  instruction,  as  were  all 
the  younger  members  of  the  village.  On- 
my  first  appearance  before  iht;mF  they 
seemed  surprised,  and  questioned  me  re 
garding  my  name  and  parentage — at  the 
same  time  expressing  their  belief  1  was 
not  an  Indian — or,  at  the  most,  only  a  half- 
breed.  I  replied,  that  as  to  myself  they 
might  conjecture  what  they  pleased,  but 
that  I  was  not  then  at  liberty  to  answer 
any  questions,  and  there  the  subject 
dropped. 

"  A  year's  tuition  and  close  application 
made  quite  a  scholar,  and  I  could  now- 
read  and  write  the  English  language  quite 
•fluently,  as  could  several  of  the  more  in 
telligent  of  my  companions.  At  the  close 
(Of  the  period  mentioned,  our  teachers,  af- 
•ter  presenting  each  of  their  pupils  with  a 
Bible,  and  distributing  among  us  several 
other  religious  books,  departed  to  another 
section  of  country.  Soon  after  this,  Great 
Medicint  proposed  that  we  should  adopt  a 
more  roving  life,  as  in  this  manner  he 
thought  greater  good  might  be  effected. 
Accordingly  we  began  moving  from  one 
quarter  to  another,  trying  to  subdue  the 


wild  passions  of  the  Indians  of  ilie  differ 
ent  tribes  we  met.  In  this  of  course  w« 
were  not  in  general  successful — though 
our  exemplary  mode  of  life  ever  appeared 
to  make  a  favorable  impression  on  their 
savage  hearts,  and  win  their  respect.  ID 
course  of  time  we  became  persontllj 
known  in  every  section  of  the  broad  West. 
and  were  allowed  to  come  and  depart  an 
we  saw  proper.  Whenever  we  heard  cf  a 
battle  about  to  be  fought  between  twi  na- 
tions,  we  would  generally  follow  one  party 
or  the  other,  that  we  might  be  on  die 
ground  to  succor  the  wounded.  If  we 
gained  tidings  of  a  strong  parly  about  to 
assault  a  weaker,  we  would  manage,  if 
possible,  to  warn  the  latter.  Or,  in  the 
event  of  the  forces  being  equal,  if  we 
knew  of  a  surprise  one  tribe  had  planned 
lor  another,  it  was  ever  our  design  to  warn 
the  unwary.  Whites  as  well  as  Indians 
received  from  us  the  same  warnings — 
though  how  our  information  was  obtained, 
generally  remained  a  mystery  to  those  not 
,  in  the  secret.  And  moreover,  great  cau 
tion  was  required  by  the  informant  in  tluse 
cases,  to  avoid  exposing  himsell  to  th« 
aggressors,  who,  in  the  heat  of  passioi., 
would  be  likely  to  seek  revenge.  On 
many  of  these  errands  of  mercy  —  for  1 
think  I  may  so  term  them — ha\e  I  been 
sent,  when  I  knew  a  single  error  would 
cost  me  my  life.  But  I  believed  I  was 
doing  my  duty,  put  my  trust  in  a  Powu 
above,  and  faltered  not  in  my  purpose.  1 
was  never  detected  but  once  to  my  know 
ledge;  and  in  this  instance,  tbnunat«'\ 
for  me,  1  had  rendered  the  tribe  aggrieve*} 
the  same  service  as  that  for  which  the} 
brought  me  to  trial  before  their  council. 
This  being  proved,  it  was  finally  decided 
the  obligation  on  their  part  canceled  the 
aggression  on  mine,  and  I  was  allowed  to 
go  free,  with  a  very  significant  intimation, 
however,  that  if  caught  in  the  second 
offence,  my  sentence  would  be  death. 

"  But  as  I  do  not  intend  to  enter  into 
detail  to-night,  and  as  I  already  feel  some- 
what  fatigued,  I  will  drop  my  narrative 
here,  and,  as  1  said  before,  give  you  from 
time  to  time  the  most  striking  incidents  of 
my  life,  as  they  occur  to  my  recollection. 
I  have-  briefly  told  you  all  1  know  of  my 
early  history,  and  by  vour  leave  wij  « 
end  the  story," 


AD     ENTURES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

EVILINK'S  RESOLVE —  SOME  PLANS  FOR  THE 

FUTURE RETIRE  FOR  THE  SIGHT SUB- 

BBQUENT    EXCITEMENT  OF  MY  FRIEND IM 
AGINARY  DUEL A  HAPPY  MISTAKE LOVE 

TRIUMPHANT — THOUGHTS  OF  HOME. 

"  POOR  child  !  my  own  sweet  Evaline," 
said  Madame  Mortimer,  affectionately,  as 
the  former  concluded  ;  "  what  a  singular 
life  has  been  yours !  and  how  much  you 
must  have  suffered  !  " 

"  For  which  she  shall  be  made  happy 
the  rest  of  her  dayr,,"  said  Eva,  springing 
to  and  imprinting  a  kiss  on  her  lips. 

"  Ah  !  "  chimed  in  Lilian,  following  the 
example  of  Eva  ;  "  did  I  not  say  we  would 
love  her  as  a  sister  ?  " 

"  Ay,  but  I  had  no  idea  you  spoke  so 
much  truth,  and  in  a  double  sense," 
rejoined  Eva,  glancing  archly  toward 
Charles.  "  I  trust  we  may  love  her  as  a 
iister  both  ! " 

"  Indeed  you  may,"  chimed  in  I,  laugh 
ing.  "Eh!  Charley?" 

"Be  quiet,  I  beg  of  you!"  answered 
my  friend,  in  some  confusion,  while  Eva- 
line  hung  her  head  with  a  blush,  and  a 
pleasant  smile  played  over  each  face  of  the 
rest  of  the  group. 

"And  now,  dear  Evaline,"  said  Mad- 
nme  Mortimer,  "  I  suppose  we  may  count 
an  your  spending  the  remainder  of  your 
days  with  us  ?  " 

Evaline  seemed  to  muse  seriously,  but 
did  not  reply. 

"  Surely  you  do  not  hesitate,  my  child  ?" 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,"  she  answered, 
"  I  love  the  Indians,  and  know  they  will 
be  loth  to  part  with  me." 

"  And  has  a  mother  no  tie  stronger  than 
that  of  mere  association?"  rejoined  the 
other,  reproachfully. 

Evaline  looked  up  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  ttjars. 

"  Nay,  mother,"  she  said,  "  do  not  speak 
thus  !  Yes  !  "  she  exclaimed,  suddenly 
rising,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  the 
other's  neck:  "Yes,  dear  mother,  I  will 
go  with  you,  even  to  the  ends  of  the  earth 
— -  for  I  feel  I  could  not  part  from  you 


a^ain.  From  my  very  childhood,  I  har« 
yearned  for  this  happy  moment,  to  hear 
the  sweet  voice  of  one  I  could  call  mother. 
It  may  be  wrong  to  forsake  my  calling; 
but  if  it  be,  I  feel  I  must  err  ;  for  I  am 
only  mortal  after  all,  and  cannot  withstand 
the  temptation  of  being  with  those  1 
already  love  beyond  all  others  I  have  ever 
seen." 

"  Bless  you,  Evaline,  for  those  words  !  " 
"  But  I  must  return  to  them,"  she  add 
ed.      "I    have   promised   that.      I   must 
return  and  bid  them  a  last  farewell." 

"  But  where  are  you  to  find  them,  my 
child  ?  " 

"  They  will  winter  on  the  Black  Hills, 
some  sixty  or  seventy  miles  from  Forl 
Laramie." 

"  And  will  they  remain  through  the 
spring?"  asked  I. 

"  I  cannot  say.  They  may  remain  there 
through  the  summer,  for  all  are  particular 
ly  attached  to  the  spot ;  and  if  any  place 
can  be  called  their  home,  it  is  the  one  in 
question." 

"  Then  you  can  visit  them  on  our  way 
to  the  East ;  and  every  thing  prosperous, 
we  shall  start  as  early  in  the  spring  -AS 
practicable." 

"  0,  then  we  are  to  go  East  in  earnest !  " 

exclaimed  Eva,  clapping  her  hands  for  joy. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  1  am  anxious  to  see 

home,  and    cannot   think   of  leaving  my 

friends  behind  me." 

"  Thank  you  for  this  welcome  news  !  " 
she  returned  ;  "  for  I  am  already  tired  of 
the  forest." 

"  But  you  do  not  regret  having  come 
here,  Eva  ?  "  said  her  mother,  inquiringly. 
"  Why,  I  have  regretted  it  all  along,  till 
I  found  my  sweet  sister.  Of  course  I  can 
not  regret  being  made  happy  by  her  pres 
ence,  which  but  for  this  journey  had 
probably  never  been.  At  the  same  time, 
I  am  not  the  less  anxious  to  return  now, 
and  take  her  with  me." 

"And  I,"  said  Mrs.  Huntly,  "now that 
I  am  blessed  with  my  children,  begin  to 
feel  anxious  to  see  my  native  land  again, 
to  there  pass  the  remainder  of  my  days, 
and  lay  my  bones  with  those  that  have 
gone  before  me." 

"  God  grant  it  may  be  long  ere  th« 
latter  event!"  returned  Charles  tvith  feel 
ing. 


90 


LEN1    l.EOTI;   OR, 


"  Amen  !"  added  I. 

"  It  .seems,"  observed  Madame  Mor 
timer,  after  some  reflection,  "  as  if  Provi 
dence  especially  directed  our  steps  hither  ; 
and  it  is  die  only  way  I  can  account  for 
my  anxiety  to  visit  this  part  of  the  world, 
and  thus  expose  myself  and  Eva  to  hard 
ships  and  perils.  What  need  had  I  to 
come  westward  ?  I  had  a  handsome  com 
petence,  and  no  ambition  to  be  a  pioneer  ; 
and  yet  something  whispered  me  I  must 
go.  Truly,  as  I  said  before,  God.  works 
in  wonders  ! " 

In  like  conversation  an  hour  or  two  flew 
by,  when  the  party  broke  up,  and  Madame 
Mortimer  and  her  daughters  were  conduct 
ed  by  Huntly  and  myself  to  their  own 
abode,  which  was  close  at  hand,  and  the 
fatigue  and  excitement  of  the  day  was 
*oon  by  each  forgotten  in  the  pleasant 
dreams  of  the  night. 

Time  rolled  away  pleasantly,  and  the 
third  night 'after  this,  having  retired  at  the 
usual  hour  and  fallen  into  a  sweet  sleep, 
I  was  awakened  by  Huntly,  whom  I  found 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  apparently 
in  great  excitement. 

"  Good  heavens  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 
exclaimed  I,  rubbing  open  my  eyes  and 
starting  up  in  bed. 

"  So,  then,  you  are  awake  at  last !  "  he 
replied,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  what  to  me 
seemed  unnatural  tire.  "  Why,  Frank, 
I  was  beginning  to  think  you  were  taking 
your  last  long  sleep,  and  that  I  might  as 
well  call  to  a  log  of  wood.  Come  !  up, 
now,  and  give  me  joy  !  It  is  all  settled, 
jny  dear  fellow  —  all  settled  !  " 

"Is  it?"  rejoined  I,  completely,  at  a 
loss  to  comprehend  what  he  meant,  but 
somehow,  in  rny  sleepy  confusion,  mixing 
it  up  with  a  duel  of  which  I  had  been 
dreaming  the  night  previous.  "  And  so 
it  is  all  settled,  eh  ?  Well,  I  am  glad  to 
hear  it,  Charley. 

"I  knew  you  would  be,"  he  replied; 
"  and  I  awoke  you  on  purpose  to  have  you 
share  my  happiness.  Come,  give  me  your 
hand  ! '' 

"  But  how  did  you  settle  it,  Chhrley  ?  " 

"  O.  I  made  bold  to  take  up  the  matter 
at  last  and  press  it  to  a  conclusion." 

"And  so  you  settled  it  ?  " 

"  Ay,  and  it  is  to  come  off  at  the  same 
time  as  yours." 


"  As  mine  !  But  my  frieud,  1  hnve  no 
such  affair  on  hand,  to  my  knowledge." 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Huntly,  looking 
at  me  in  astonishment.  "  Why,  you  have 
given  me  to  understand,  all  along  that  you 
had." 

"  I  ?     No,  you  must  be  mistaken." 

"  Ha  !  then  you  have  quarreled  ?  " 

"  No  !  exactly  the  reverse.  But  you 
told  me  a  moment  since  you  had  settled 
the  whole  matter,  and  now  you  say  it  is  to 
come  off  with  mine.  Somehow  I  do  not 
understand  it.  Either  you  or  I  imi?t  have 
made  a  mistake.  When  you  said  it  was 
all  settled,  I  supposed  /ou  to  mean  amica 
bly  settled  ;  but  I  see  now  you  simply 
referred  to  manner,  time,  and  place.  Well, 
at  all  events,  I  will  stand  by  you  to  the 
last,  though  I  sincerely  regret  the  affair 
could  not  have  ended  without  a  meeting. 
Pistols  or  rifles,  Charles  ?  " 

"  Pistols  or  rifles  !  "  he  repeated,  gazing 
at  me  with  a  peculiar  expression.  "  Why, 
Frank,  what  do  you  mean  by  this  strange 
language  ?  or  are  you  still  asleep  ?  In 
the  name  of  all  that  is  curious,  pray  tell 
me  if  you  know  yourself  what  you  ar« 
talking  about  ?  " 

"  Why,  fighting,  of  course." 

"Fighting?" 

"  Ay,  you  were  speaking  of  a  duel,  were 
you  not  ?  "• 

For  a  brief  moment  Huntly  looked  at 
me  seriously,  and  then  broke  forth  in  a 
roar  of  laughter  that  fairly  made  the  cabin 
tremble.  It  was  some  time  ere  he  could 
command  his  voice  sufficiently  to  make 
himself  intelligible. 

"  Go  to  bed,  Frank  !  "  were  his  first 
words,  as,  half  bent  over,  his  hands  clasp 
ing  his  ribs,  he  stood  gazing  at  me  with  a 
comical  look.  "  Gro  to  bed,  Frank,  and 
dream  yourself  into  a  sensible  fellow — for 
just  now  you  are  as  wild  as  a  night-hawk." 

"But  if  you  did  not  allude  to  a  duel, 
Charles,  pray  tell  me  to  what  you  did 
allude?" 

"  To  matrimony  —  neither  more  nor 
less,"  he  answered,  laughing. 

"Ha  !  I  see  it  all  now.  Why,  how  stu. 
pid  I  must  have  been  !  But  1  w:i«  dream* 
ing  of  a  duel  last  night,  and  being  awa 
kened  so  suddenly,  and  seeing  you  so, 
excited,  got  completely  bewildered.  And 
so  you  have  been  tete  a-tcle  with  Eva  line. 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST 


funnd  your  tongue  at  last,  and  said  the 
sensible  thing,  eh  ?  " 

"  Ay,  and  ana  how  the  happiest  fellow 
Living:" 

'•  Vou  found  it  all  right,  did  you,  just  as 
T  said  you  would?  " 

"  S->  far  that  I  found  she  loved  me,  and 
iad  ftom  the  date  of  our  first  meeting; 
but  that,  believing  herself  a  poor,  name 
less  girl,  she  had  avoided  me,  and  striven 
in  vain  to  crush  her  passion  in  the  bud. 
Though  she  would  have  loved  me,  she 
said,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  oihers,  even  to 
'.he  day  of  her  death,  yet  had  matters  not 
turned  out  as  they  have,  she  would  most 
assuredly  have  refused  my  hand,  though 
backed  by  all  the  eloquent  pleadings  of 
whieh  the  human  tongue  is  master." 

"Ay,  and  indeed  would  she!"  I  re^ 
joined,  "  for  such  is  her  proud,  noble  na 
ture.  You  remember  our  conversation 
pears  ago  respecting  her.  My  remark  then 
was,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  though  she 
might  love,  she  would  reject  you  ;  and 
gave,  as  one  reason  therefor,  that  she  was 
too  noble  minded  to  wed  above  herself. 
Strange  !  what  has  since  transpired,  and 
for  which  you  may  thank  your  stars  !  You 
and  I  little,  dreamed  then  what  the  future 
had  in  store — that  mighty  future,  which  to 
nil  mortal  eyes  is  a  scaled  book,  on  whose 
jKiges  are  impressed  the  destinies  alike  of 
worlds,  of  nations,  and  of  individuals, 
which  none  may  read  but  as  its  pages  are 
overturned  by  the  wizzard  fingers  of  old 
Time.  Well,  well,  thank  God  all  has 
:.urned  out  for  the  best  !  " 

"  Ay,  Frank,"  returned  my  friend,  sol 
emnly,  "  we  may  well  thank  God,  and  con 
gratulate  each  other  that  we  are  here 
alive,  after  the  thousand  dangers  to  which 
we  have  been  exposed.' 

"  And  she  accepted  your  hand  :  "  I  said, 
after  a  pause. 

'•  She  did,  though  not  without  much 
urging  ;  for  she  contended  that  even  now 
she  was  but  a  simple  forest  maiden,  un 
used  to  the  ways  of  civilization,  and  far 
my  inferior  in  education,  and  said  that  I 
might  aspire  higher  and  be  successful.  But 
»he  loved — that  was  enough  for  me — and 
Jove  and  my  pleadings  at  last  overcame 
her  scruples,  and  I  left  her  with  a  lighter 
heart  than  I  have  known  for  many  a  lon|/ 
year." 


"  Well,  my  friend,  I  sincerely  congratu 
late  you  on  the  happy  t».rminatiori.  And 
so,  to  speak  plainly,  your  wodding  is  to 
come  off  with  mine  ?  *' 

"  Even  so." 

"  Mine  was  to  have  come  off  on  the  daj 
you  returned  ;  such  were  the  conditions  ; 
but  the  day  passed  as  you  know  how,  and 
as  we  are  determined  on  going  East  in  the 
spring,  Lilian  and  I  have  thought  best  to 
Jeter  it  till  we  arrive  at  home.  Ah ! 
Charles,  how  that  word  thrills  me  !  Home! 
Ah,  me  !  how  long  since  I  have  seen  it ! 
and  who  knows  what  disappointment  and 
sorrow  may  be  there  in  store  for  me ! 
And  how  must  my  doting  parents  have 
mourned  my  long  absence !  Perchance 
they  think  me  dead  !  Merciful  Heav 
en  !  perchance  they  may  be  dead  them 
selves  !  Oh  God  !  should  such  be  the 
But,  no  !  I  will  not,  dare  not, 


think  so.  I  will  hope  for  the  best,  and 
strive  not  to  borrow  trouble.  It  is  enough 
to  bear  it  when  it  comes.  Come,  my 
friend,  to  bed !  for  the  thought  of  home 
has  driven  all  others  out  of  my  mind,  and 
I  can  talk  no  more  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

HAPPY  MOMENTS WINTER  AMtSEV.ENTS 

PREPARATIONS  TO  DEPART THE  WAH- 

SOCHEES — TEDDY'S  IDEA  or  DOUBLING  oa 

QUITTING  MY  SERVICE HOMEWARD  BOUND 

ARRIVE  AT  FORT  LARAMIE. 

How  sweetly  time  passes  when  with 
those  we  love.  Moment  then  follows  mo 
ment  in  unbroken  succession,  and  com 
mingling  like  drops  of  water,  forms  the 
great  stream  of  Time,  which,  flowing  past 
tlowery  banks  and  lulling  us  with  its  gen 
tle  murmur,  glides  swiftly  and  evenly 
away,  bearing  us  on  its  broad  bosom  to 
the  boundless  and  fathomless  ocean  of 
Eternity.  It  is  when  in  sweet  and  con 
stant  communion  with  those  we  love,  we 
forget  the  jars  and  discords  of  our  past 
life,  in  the  enrapturing  harmony  of  th« 
present.  We  then  lose  sight  of  the  world 
as  it  is,  and  only  behold  it  through  thnl 


IENI     LEOTI;     OR, 


magic  glass  of  inner  joy,  which  shows  all 
its  beauties,  but  conceals  its  defects.  These 
moments  of  earthly  beatitude  are  most 
precious  and  evanescent.  They  are  as  so 
many  golden  sunbeams,  streaming  upon 
the  otherwise  gloomy  path  of  the  traveler, 
and  showing  him  a  thousand  beauties,  of 
whose  existence  so  near  him  he  had  pre 
viously  no  conception. 

Thus  it  was  with  myself  and  friend^. 
Time  rolled  away  almost  unnoted,  and  ere 
\vc.  had  prepared  ourselves  to  bid  old  hoary- 
i'eaded  Winter  adieu,  we  found,  to  our  sur 
prise,  he  had  gone,  and  that  light-footed 
Hpring  was  gaily  tripping  and  smiling  in 
his  place. 

Although  far  in  the  wilderness,  Oregon 


sure  of  quilting  their  piesent  abode,  ana 
what  they  would  do  when  they  should 
safely  arrive  at  their  destination. 

With  Evaline  it  was  different.  In  this 
journey  she  only  saw  a  change  of  life  and 
scene — which,  if  truth  must  be  told,  she 
rather  regretted  than  rejoiced  at  —  and  a 
sad  parting  from  her  Indian  friends.  Where 
Lilian  and  Eva  saw  welcome  faces  and  a 
thousand  fascinations  in  the  haunts  of  civ 
ilization",  she  beheld  nothing  but  the  jold 

O        (      t 

gaze  of  strangers  and  the  gossiping  specu 
lations  of  the  worldly-minded.  She  wa» 
beautiful  and  fascinating  in  her  personal 
appearance — refined,  polished,  and  grace 
ful  in  her  manners — but  withal,  sc  exces 
sively  modest  as  to  underrate  her  own 


Oity  was  not  without  its  attractions.     Of  I  powers,'   and    fancy  herself   an    awkward 


the  settlers,  many  were  young  people,  who 
had  been  well  brought  up  in  the  East,  and 


their 


had    come    hither    to    try 

They   did    not   believe  in   renouncing 

iheir  former  amusement 


fortunes, 
all 


forest  maiden,  unfitted  for  the  society  in 
which  she  was  destined  more  or  less  to 
mingle.  Both  Charles  and  I,  as  also  the 
others,  ever  strove  to  eradicate  this  un 
pleasant  impression,  and  we  in  part,  suc 
ceeded.  But  still  she  was  diffident,  sobei 
minded,  and  without  a  particle  of  that  en 
thusiasm  so  strongly  manifested  by  he» 
sister  and  Lilian. 

The  Indian  companions  of  Evaline  had 
remained  in  the  village  through  the  win 
ter,  and  by  their  quiet,  unobtrusive  man 
ners,  their  steady,  upright  mode  of  life — 
so  different  from  the  drunken,  brawling 
natives  of  the  neighboring  tribes,  who  oc 
casionally  visited  the  village — had  won  the 
respect  and  regard  of  the  citizens,  and,  in 
fact,  become  decided  favorites  with  all 
While  the  former  were  sought  for,  the  lat 
ter  were  shunned  ;  and  the  widest  distinc 
tion  in  all  cases  was  ever  drawn  between 
the  Wahsochees  and  their  red  brethren  of 
other  nations.  But  notwithstanding  this 
partiality,  the  Wahsochees  were  evidently 
not  contented  in  their  present  situation. 
To  them,  civilized  customs  had  less  attrac 
tion  than  the  more  rude  and  simple  ones 

nnd    as   there  were  many  here  who   de-  j  of  their  own  tribe  ;    and  they  were  now 

sjo-ned  going  East-  -some  "to  procure  goods,  |  anxious  to  depart  and  join  their  friends. 

some  to  remain,  and  others,  who  had  come 

hure  in  advance,  to   bring  on   their  fr.mi- 

ljt.s  —  we  decided   to  join  them,  and  thus 

journey  in  comparative  security. 

Great  was  the  delight  of  Lilian  and  Eva, 

as    the,   time  drew  near  for  our  departure. 

in   fact,  toward  the  last,  they  could  think 


and  in  conse 
quence,  gay  parties,  festivities,  and  balls 
succeeded  one  another  in  rapid  succession. 
To  these  myself  and  friends  were  always 
invited,  and  a  number  of  them  we  at 
tended.  They  were  rude  in  comparison  to 
some  in  older  settlements,  it  is  true  ;  but 
being  in  general  conducted  with  great 
propriety,  often  proved  very  agreeable  pas 
times,  and  enlivened  the  otherwise  rather 
dull  monotony  of  the  village. 

As  spring  advanced,  we  began  gradu 
ally  to  prepare  for  our  journey.  The  real 
estate  previously  purchased  by  Mrs.  Hunt- 
ly,  was  readily  sold  for  cash,  and  the  re 
ceipts  doubled  the  purchase  money.  As 
we  designed  taking  nothing  with  us  but 
what  was  absolutely  necessary,  the  furni 
ture  of  both  Mrs.  Huntly  and  Madame 
Mortimer  was  also  disposed  of — possession 
to  be  given  so  soon  as  the  premises  should 
be  vacated. 

As  our  party  of  itself  was  not  strong, 


It  was  arranged  that  all  should  proceed  in 
company  as  far  as  Fort  Laramie,  whence 
Evaline  could  either  accompany  the  In 
dians  home,  or  let  them  go  in  advance  to 
herald  her  approach,  as  circumstances 
might  determine. 

In  enumerating  the  different  personage* 


of  nothing,  talk  of  nothing,  but   the  pl«:a-    who  have  tigured  in  this  narrative.  I  nm* 


ADVENTURES     IN*    THE    FAR    WEST 


9,1 


not  forget  Teddy.     For  the  last  five  or  six 

months' he  had  been  in  his  glory  ;  and  be- 

.  twe^n  taking  rare  of  our  horses,  spinning 

,  long  yarns  to  the  villagers,  (whom,  by  the 

way,  he  ever  succeeded   in  astonishing,) 

,  and  making  love  to  Molly  Stubbs,  he  had, 

as  the  phrase  goes,  had  "his  hands  full." 

Of  his  success  in  the  last,  I  must  let  the 

reader   judge  by  the  following  colloquy, 

which  took"  place  between  us  a  week  or 

jo  previous  to  the  time  fixed  on  for  our 

departure. 

Approaching  me  with  a  rather  timid 
step,  hat  in  hand,  and  making  a  low 
obeisance,  he  said  : 

"  The  top  of  the  morning  to  your  hon 
or." 

"  The  same  to  you,  Teddy." 
"Sure,   your  honor — (a  pause   and  a 
rapid  twirl* of  the  hat)  —  sure,  and   is  it 
<   thrue  ye're  after  taking  yoursilf  and  frinds 
I    from  these  diggins  (us  the  spalpeens  call 
the  likes)  in  a  "week  for  that  mather  ?  " 

"  All  true,  Teddy,  nothing  unforeseen 
preventing." 

"  Troth  !  and  ye  '11  be  missed  from  this 
counthry  when  the  likes  of  that  hap 
pens." 

"  I  trust  so,  Teddy." 
Another  pause,  another  twirl  of  the  hat, 
find  a  scratching  of  the  head.     After  some 
Hesitation — 

"  Sure,  and  it 's  me  own  mother's  son, 
Teddy  O'Lagherty,  as  'ud  like  to  be  axing 
yees  a  question  ?  " 

"Well,  Teddy,  say  on!' 
"  Faith  !    and  it 's  mesilf  as  has  been 
long  in  your  honor's  sarvice,  now." 

"  Some  three  or  four  years,  I  believe, 
off  and  on." 

"And   it's  not  a  bether  masther    I'd 
iver  want,  no  it  isn't." 
-Well?" 

"But  ye '»  a-going  home,  HOW,  and 
maybe  does  n't  care  for  the  likes  of  me 
inny  longer  ?  " 

"  I  see  :  you  wish  to  be  discharged  ?  " 
Another  twirl  of  the  hat  and  scratch  of 
the  head. 

"Why,  now,  your  honor — no  offence  at 
•11  —  but — but  to  spaak  the  thruth,  and 
make  a  claan  breast  of  it,  it's  that  same 
I'd  ay ther  be  axing  for,  or  doubling  the 
•wvice,  jist." 

"  Doubling  the  service,  Teddy. 2     I  do 


not  understand  you.     You  mean  I  must 
double  your  wages,  eh  ?  " 

"Will,  it's  not  exactly  that — but—but 
but — ye  sae — (Here  the  hat  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  Teddy  made  an  unsuccessful 
etl'ort  to  recover  it,)  —  "  Murther  take  the 
luck,  but  I  '11  say  it  now  if  I  dies  for  it 
betimes  !  Ye  sae,  your  honor,  I  've  axed 
Molly,  and  it 's  all  settled,  and  there'* 
a-going  to  be  the  pair  of  us,  barring  that 
the  two  counts  one  Scripter-wise." 

"  So,  so — I  understand  now — you  are 
about  to  be  married  to  Molly  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  may  say  that's  the  short 
way  of  saying  the  likes,  your  honor." 

"  Exactly  ;  and  unless  I  wish  to  employ 
you  both,  you  desire  to  quit  my  service  ?  " 

"Troth!  and  your  honor's  a  gintleman 
at  guessing." 

"  Well,  Teddy,  as  I  have  no  use  for 
Molly  at  this  time,  I  will  give  you  an  hon 
orable  discharge,  and  a  handsome  wee 
ding  present  for  your  valuable  services 
besides." 

"  God  bless  ye  for  a  gintleman,  ivery 
inch  of  yees  !  and  it's  mesilf  as'll  niver 
forgit  ye  in  me  prayers,"  was  the  warm 
hearted  response,  as,  grasping  my  hand,  he 
shook  it  heartily,  while  his  eyes  filled  with 
joyful  tears.  "  God  bless  ye  for  a  noble 
heart !  "  he  added,  as  he  turned  away  to 
communicate  his  success  to  her  with  whom 
his  fortune  was  about  to  be  linked. 

Suffice  it  here,  that  I  kept  my  word 
with  Teddy,  who  had  no  reason  to  regret 
having  entered  my  service  and  secured  my 
esteem. 

The  long  wished  for  day  of  our  depart 
ure  came  at  last,  and  being  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  pleasant  of  the  season, 
was  hailed  with  delight  as  an  omen  of 
prosperity.  Everything  having  been  pre 
viously  arranged,  there  was  little  to  do  but 
take  leave  of  those  who  remained ;  and 
this  being  soon  over,  we  were  on  the  move 
at  an  early  hour,  a  goodly  company  of 
thirty  souls,  two-thirds  of  whom  were  of 
the  sterner  sex. 

As  much  of  importance  is  yet  to  be  told, 
and  as  the  reader  has  once  or  twice  fol 
lowed  me  over  the  ground  now  traversed, 
I  will  not  trouble  him  with  a  detail  of  our 
journey  from  Oregon  City  to  Fort  Laramin 
Suffice,  that  we  reached  the  latter  place  in 
safety,  though  much  fatigued,  about  thi» 


L  E  N  1     L  E  0  T  I ;    OR, 


middle  of  July,  Anno  Domini  1844,  and  | 
some  four  years  subsequent  to  my  former 
vi*it  lii-re,  when  1  first  beheld  (he  beauti 
ful  Pniirie  Flower,  otherwise  Leni  Leoti, 
now  Kvaline  Mortimer,  and  soon  to  be 
Bat  let  me  not  anticipate. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

A   JO11RNKV    TO    THE   BLACK    HILLS — CAMP 

SLIGHT  ALARM SLEEPLESS  NIGHT MEB:T- 

INO  WITH  THE  TRIBE JOV  ANB  SORROW 

THE      FINAL     FAREWELL A      BEAUTIFUL 

LANDSCAPE THE      PROPOSED      RIDE A 

KEW  CHARACTER  INTRODUCED —  UNHEED 
ED  FOREBODINGS. 

To  the  great  delight  of  Evaline,  as  well 
ns  those  who  sympathized  with  her,  it  was 
ascertained  soon  after  our  arrival  at  the 
fort,  that  some  of  the  Mysterious  Tribe 
had  been  seen  quite  recently  in  the  vicinity  ; 
from  which  we  drew  the  conclusion,  that 
they  were  still  at  their  winter  quarters  on 
the  Black  Hills.  It  being  Evaline's  desire 
to  see  them  as  soon  as  possible,  it  was 
finally  arranged  that  her  sister,  Lilian, 
Charles  and  myself  should  bear  her  com 
pany,  along  with  her  Indian  Friends,  while 
her  mother  and  Mrs.  Huntiy  should  await 
our  return  at  the  fort.  On  learning  our 
determination  some  five  or  six  of  the  party 
with  whom  we  had  crossed  the  mountains, 
volunteered  to  go  with  us — a  favor  which 
we  gladly  accepted,  as  this  would  strength 
en  our  party,  and  render  us  less  liable  to 
attack,  should  we  chance  upon  hostile 
savages.  The  rest  of  the  company,  after 
remaining  over  night  at  the  fort,  being 
anxious  to  proceed,  bade  us  adieu,  and 
resumed  their  journey  on  the  morning- 
following. 

Before  starting  for  "the  Black  Hills,  we 
procured  a  couple  of  tents  for  the  females, 
which  we  packed  on  mules,  and  then, 
mounting  each  on  a  good  horse,  with  ah 
the  necessary  equipments  for  defense,  we 
Bet  forth  on  the  second  day  at  an  early 
hour.  For  a  number  of  miles  we  made 
rapid  progress,  but  at  length  came  to  a 


stream,  whose  curi^nt  being  swift  an«. 
banks  precipitous,  delayed  us  some  time 
in  seeking  a  place  to  ford.  This  crossed, 
we  soon  came  to  another  where  a  similar 
delay  awaited  us.  In  short,  our  proi>-re*s 
was  so  many  times  checked  through  th<» 
day,  that  when  night  at  last  began  to  draw 
her  sable  curtains,  we  found,  to  the  best 
of  our  judgment,  that  hardly  two-thirds 
of  our  jo.urney  had  been  gone  over. 

Selecting  a  pleasant  spot,  we  pitched 
our  tents,  liberated  our  animals  and  en 
camped.  An  hour  or  two  was  passed  in  a 
very  agreeable  manner,  when  the  females, 
who  appeared  more  fatigued  than  we  ol 
the  sterner  sex,  withdrew  to  their  quarters, 
leaving  the  rest  of  us  squatted  around  a 
large  fire,  which  we  had  started,  not  to 
warm  ourselves  by,  for  it  was  a  sultry 
July  night,  but  to  keep  off  the  wild  ani 
mals,  of  whose  proximity  we  were  several 
times  reminded  by  dismal  howls. 

A  couple  of  hours  preceding  midnight, 
our  animals  were  driven  in  and  picketed, 
and  a  guard  set,  more  from  caution  than 
apprehension  of  danger.  This  done,  the 
remainder  of  the  party  stretched  them 
selves  around  the  tire,  and,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  my  friend  and  I,  were  soon  in 
the  enjoyment  of  that  sweetest  of  all  bless 
ings,  a  sound  and  healthful  sleep.  For 
some  time  I  lay  musing  on  the  singular 
events  of  my  life,  and  then  turned  to 
Huntiy. 

"Well,  Charley,"  said  I,  "this  seems 
like  old  times." 

"So  I  have  been  thinking,"  he  rejoined, 
"with  one  exception,  Frank." 

"  The  ladies,  eh  ?  " 

"Exactly.  I  trust  nothing  may  occur 
to  make  us  regret  their  presence,"  he  add 
ed,  seriously.  "  You  and  I  have  faced 
danger  too  often  to  fear  it  for  our  own 
sakes  —  but  if  anything  should  happen 
now " 

"  Surely  you  do  not  dream  of  danger 
here  ?  "  I  interrupted. 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Frank," 
he  replied,  "  I  have  my  misgivings  that  we 
shall  see  trouble  ere  we  again  reach  the 
fort." 

"  God  forbid  !  What  makes  you  think 
so?" 

"  I  can  give  no  reason.  It  is  simply  9 
presentiment  of  evil." 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR     WEST. 


"  But  from  what  source  do  you  appre 
hend  danger?" 

"  From  no  particular  one,  Frank." 

"  Merely  a  fancy  of  yours,  probably, 
tpringing  "from  your  intense  interest  in 
those^more  dear  to  you  than  life." 

"  God  send  it  be  only  fancy  ! "  he  re 
joined,  gloomily. 

His  words  made  me  sad,  and,  added  to 
the  restlessness  I  had  previously  felt,  kept 
me  awake  a  long  time.  At  last  I  fell  into 
u  feverish  slumber,  and  was  gradually  pro- 
grossing  toward  a  state  of  utcer-forgetful- 
ness,  when  a  snorting  and  stamping  of  the 
animals  aroused  me,  and  together  with 
Huntly  I  sprang  to  my  feet  in  alarm. 

"What  is  it?"  I  cried  to  the  guard, 
whom  1  found  standing  near  me,  pale  as 
death,  with  his  rifle  pointed  in  the  direction 
whence  came  the  disturbance. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered  ;  "  this 
is  the  first  I  have  heard.  Shall  I  give  the 
alarm  ?  " 

"  No !  remain  quiet  a  moment  where 
you  are,  and  I  will  steal  in  among  the 
animals  and  ascertain  the  cause.  I  do  not 
think  it  proceeds  from  savages,  or  we 
should  have  had  an  onset  ere  this." 

"  What  then,  Frank  ?  "  asked  Huntly, 
taking  his  position  by  the  tents,  rifle  in  hand. 

"  Most  likely  some  wild  beast,  which, 
urged  on  by  hunger,  has  ventured  a  little 
nearer  than  usual." 

My  conjecture  this  time  proved  correct ; 
for  on  cautiously  approaching  the  fright 
ened  animals,  I  discovered  a  small  wolf 
in  the  act  of  gnawing  a  tether  rope  of 
buffalo  hide.  I  could  have  shot  him  from 
where  I  stood  ;  but  this  I  did  not  care  to 
do,  as  it  would  only  create  unnecessary 
alarm.  Retreating  a  few  paces  and  select 
ing  a  good  sized  club,  I  informed  the  guard 
and  Huntly  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm, 
and  returning  with  a  stealthy  pace,  got 
$lose  to  the  hungry  beast  without  making 
him  aware  of  my  presence.  His  head  was 
frum  me,  and  he  was  eagerly  engaged  in 
getting  a  morsel  to  eke  out  a  half-famished 
existence.  I  believe  I  could  have  killed 
the  poor  creature  with  a  single  blow,  arid 
raised  my  club  for  the  purpose  ;  but  pity 
gained  power  over  my  resolution,  and  J 
gave  him  only  a  gentle  tap,  which  rather 
Bc.'ired  than  hurt  him,  and  he  ran  away 
howling. 


This  little  incident,  though  nothing  in 
itself,  tended  so  to  increase  the  nervous 
ness  of  both  Huntly  and  myself,  that  we 
did  not  fall  soundly  asleep  till  the  first  sign 
of  daybreak  streamed  up  golden  in  the 
east.  An  hour  later  we  were  all  on  our 
feet,  and  having  partaken  a  slight  repast, 
and  laughed  over  our  fears  of  the  departed 
night,  we  mounted  our  horses  and  again 
proceeded  on  our  journey. 

No  more  delays  occurred,  and  ere  the 
sun  gained  the  meridian,  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  village,  when  our  Indian  compan 
ions,  unable  to  restrain  themselves  loifger, 
uttered  shouts  of  delight,  and  darted  away 
in  advance  of  us.  I  turned  to  Evaline, 
and  beheld  her  seated  quietly  on  her  little 
pony,  her  gaze  rivetted  upon  the  village, 
but  apparently  laboring  under  no  excite 
ment.  A  closer  scrutiny  convinced  me  I 
was  mistaken.  There  was  little  outward 
display  of  her  feelings  ;  but  I  perceived  in 
her  ashen  cheeks  and  absent  stare,  that 
thoughts,  mighty  in  their  power,  were 
stirring  the  soul  within.  For  a  short  time 
she  seemed  unconscious  of  anything  around 
her,  and  it  was  not  until  Eva  had  address 
ed  her  thrice  that  she  received  an  answer 
to  lier  question  : 

"  Is  this  the  spot,  sister?" 

On  the  second  repetition.  Evaline  start 
ed,  turned  to  the  fair  querist  and  sighed: 

"  This  is  the  spot." 

Then  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
she  remained  silent  until  addressed  again. 

"  Why  are  you  so  sad,  Evalinu  ? " 
inquired  Lilian. 

"  Ay,  sister,  tell  us  !  "  added  Eva. 

"I  am  thinking  of  the  past  and  the  fu 
ture,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  low,  tremulous 
tone.  "  Oh,  my  friends  !"  she  continued, 
"you  cannot  know  my  feelings.  I  am 
about  to  bid  farewell  to  those  who  have 
been  to  me  as  brothers  and  sisters.  1  am 
about  to  leave — to  see  them  no  more — to 
go  far  away  to  the  land  of  the  stranger. 
True,  you  will  say,  I  go  not  alone  ;  i  .shall 
have  with  me  a  kind  mother  and  sisti-i ,  and 
other  dear  friends  ;  but  still  you  know  not 
what  it  is  to  suddenly  and  utterly  tear 
yourself  away  from  old  ties  and  old  asso 
ciations.  You  know  not  the  fascii  in  lions 
of  the  wilderness,  to  one  who,  like  urn- ..-If, 
has  never  known  aught  else.  Even  dan 
ger  has  a  charm  to  those  who  are  In  ed  to 


LEN1     LEOT1;     OR, 


»t ;  and  it  is  hard,  with  all  the  inducements 
«efore  me,  to  break  the  spell  of  unlimited 
freedom  with  which  I  have  roamed  over 
thousands  of  miles  of  uncultivated  terri 
tory.  But  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  go  with 
you.  I  cannot  think  of  parting  from  my 
dear  mother  again  in  lite.  As  she  has 
suggested,  the  tie  binding  me  to  her  I  ac 
knowledge  to  be  stronger  than  that  of 
mere  association. 

"  And  have  you  no  other  inducement  to 
part  from  the  Mysterious  Tribe  ?  "  asked 
Huntly,  a  little  reproachfully. 
•  Evaline  looked  up,  her  eye  met  his,  a 
ilight  flush  colored  her  pale  features,  and 
franklv  taking  lu's  hand,  she  replied,  in  a 
meet,  timid  voice  : 

"  Yes,  dear  Charles,  there  is  more  than 
one." 

'  "  God  bless  you,  Evaline  ! "  was  the 
hearty  response.  "  We  will  all  strive  to 
make  you  happy  ;  and  in  the  joy  of  the 
future,  you  will  ere  long  forget  the  past." 

"Forget,  say  you?"  she  repeated, 
Iookin4  earnestly  in  his  face.  "  Forget 
the  past?"  —  forget  my  old  friends? 
Nay,"  she  continued,  "you  know  not  yet 
the  heart  of  Prairie  Flower,  if  you  think 
she  can  ever  forget." 

"  No,  no,  not  exactly  forget,"  re 
turned  Huntly,  endeavoring  to  recover 
from  his  mistake  :  "  Not  exactly  forget : 
I  do  not  mean  that,  Evaline — but  rather 
that  you  will  cease  to  regret  this  change 
of  life." 

"Perhaps  so,"  she  sighed. 

"See!"  I  exclaimed,  "the  Indians 
have  nearly  gained  the  village,  and  the  in 
habitants  are  already  flocking  down  the 
hill  to  meet  them.  Let  us  quicken  our 
pace;"  and  galloping  forward,  we  soon 
drew  n'in  in  the  center  of  the  crowd. 

"  Leni  Leoii !  "  "  Prairie  Flower  !  "  was 
the  universal  cry  on  every  hand,  as  Eva- 
line  leaped  from  her  saddle  arid  sprang  to 
the  embrace  of  her  Indian  friends,  who 
pressed  around  her  as  children  around  a 
parent — old  and  young—men,  women  and 
children — each  eager  to  be  tirst  to  greet 
her  with  a  hearty  welcome.  For  some 
time  the  rest  of  us  remained  wholly  unno 
ticed.  At  length,  the  first  joyful  excite 
ment  over,  Evaline  pointed  to  us,  and  bade 
the  Indians  give  us  welcome,  which  they 
jjji]  in  a  hearty  manner, 


Approaching  Eva,  Evaline  took  Lei  by 
the  hand  and  said  : 

"  In  this  lady,  my  friends,  you  behold 
the  sister  of  Prairie  Flower." 

"  Another  Prairie  Flower  !  "     "Another 
i  Leni  Leoti!"   was  the  almost  simultane 
ous  exclamation  ;  and  instantly  collecting 
around,  they  gazed  upon  her  in  surprise, 
and  began  talking  to  each  other  in  their 
own    dialect.      Then,    one    after   another, 
they  approached  and  took  her  hand,  and 
said,  in   broken   English,  that  they  were 
most  happy  to  see  her,  and  that  she  was 
;  welcome,  as  the  sister  of  Prairie  Flower, 
'  to  a  share  in  all  they  possessed.     This  re 
ception  over,  they  invited  us  to  the  village, 
1  where  everything  in  their  power  was  done 
|  to  make   us   comfortable    and    contented. 
j  Our   animals  were   taken   in   charge   and 
liberated,  and  three  or  four  lodges  assigned 
us  during  our  stay  among  them. 

On  learning  that  Evaline  had  only  re 
turned  to  bid  them  a  final   farewell,   the 
Wahsochees  one  and  all  became  very  sad, 
and  a  gloom  pervaded  the  village,  as  on 
the  funeral  day  of  one  universally  beloved. 
The    women    and    children    wept   at    the 
thought,  and  some  of  them  begged  of  her 
!  in  piteous  tones  not  to  leave  them.     Eva- 
line  could  not  witness  these  sincere  mani 
festations  of  lasting  affection  unmoved,  arid 
i  in  consequence  her  eyes  were  continually     1 
j  tilled  with  tears.     As  it  had  been  arranged 
!  that  we  should  leave  on  the  following  morn 
ing,  flie  was  kept  busy  through  the  day  in 
making    preparations   therefor.     Her  cos 
tume    for   different  occasions,   which    had 
been  procured  for  her  by  Great  Medicine, 
j  and  which  she  had  preserved  with  great 
I  care,  together  with  sundry  other  articles 
and  trinkets,  some  of  which  she  had  pur 
chased  in   Oregon  City  and  brought  with 
her,  she  now  proceeded  to  distribute  one 
by  one,  giving  something  to  each  as  a  re 
membrance.     This  occupied  her  time  and 
attention  till  night,  when  a  conference  of 
the  nation  was  called,  to  which  none  of 
our  party  save  Evaline  was  admitted.    This 
conference  lasted  till  midnight,   and  loua 
before  it  broke  up,  1,  as  well   as  most  of 
my  companions,  was  sound  asleep. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  our 
horses  were  caught  and  saddled,  our  twe 
mules  packed,  and  everything  prepared 
for  our  iuimedi  ite  departure.  Evaliae  vvai 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR     vVEST. 


nlent  and  sad,  and  her  features  showed 
traces  of  having  passed  a  feverish,  restless 
night.  Thinking-  she  might  feel  a  diffi 
dence  in  having  us  present  at  her  last  in 
terview,  I  approached  her  and  said  : 

"  Evaline,  the  time  has  come  to  take  our 
final  leave." 

"  I  know  it,"  she  faltered. 

"  As  there  are  some  strangers  in  our 
party,  perhaps  it  were  better,  all  things 
considered,  that  we  should  go  on  before, 
and  await  your  coming  at  a  proper  dis 
tance  ?  " 

"  Thank  you  !  "  she  replied  ;  "  the  very 
favor  I  would  have  asked,  had  I  dared." 

"  It  shall  be  so.  There  is  »  little  hill 
you  see  yonder,  somewhat  out  of  the  direct 
course  to  the  fort,  whither  we  will  ride, 
merely  for  the  view  it  affords  of  the  prairie 
beyond,  and  there  remain  till  you  join  us." 

She  again  expressed  her  thanks,  and  I 
returned  to  the  others  and  informed  them 
of  the  new  arrangement.  We  then  pro 
ceeded  to  shake  hands  with  each  of  the 
tribe,  which  occupied  us  some  ten  minutes, 
and  mounting  our  horses,  rode  slowly  away 
down  the  mountain,  crossed  the  little 
ttreamlet,  and  galloped  over  a  short  level 
to  the  hill  in  question,  on  whose  summit 
we  came  to  a  halt  as  preconcerted. 

It  was  a  warm  day,  and  the  sun,  about 
an  hour  above  the  horizon,  streamed  down 
his  golden,  mellow  rays,  beautifying  each 
object,  by  giving  it  that  soft  and  dreamy 
appearance,  which,  in  the  poetic  mind, 
awakens  those  sweet  fancies  that  fill  the 
eoul  with  holy  meditation  and  make  earth 
seem  a  paradise.  A  heavy  dew  had  fallen 
during  the  night,  and  its  crystalline  drops, 
Etill  hanging  on  leaf,  blade,  arid  flower, 
sparkled  in  the  looming  sunbeams  like  so 
many  diamonds.  Above  us  gay  plumaged 
birds  flittered  frcm  branch  to  branch,  and 
poured  forth  their  moniing  carols  in  a  va 
riety  of  strains,  or  flapping  their  wings, 
darted  up  and  away  through  the  deep  blue 
etlier.  Around  and  about  us  bees,  beetles 
and  insects  of  divers  kinds  were  buzzing 
or  basking  in  the  sunlight,  now  dipping 
into  the  flower  to  sip  its  sweets,  now  alight 
ing  on  the  leaf  to  take  a  dainty  morsel, 
now  p'unging  to  ihe  ground  with  no  ap 
parent  design,  and  then  each  and  all  up 
and  .away,  tilling  the  air  with  a  drowsy, 
pleasing  hum, 


Not  the  least  enchanting  jf  all  was  the 
beautiful  landscape  that  here  lay  spread  to 
our  new.  Behind  us  was  the  little  valley 
we  had  just  crossed  over,  carpeted  with 
green  and  variegated  with  bright  flowers, 
through  which  wound  a  silvery  streamlet, 
and  beyond  which,  like  some  mighty  bar 
rier,  the  Black  Hills  lifted  their  heads  far 
heavenward.  To  the  right  and  left,  at 
some  little  distance,  was  a  wood,  over  the 
top  of  which  loomed  hills  one  -above  an 
other,  but  gradually  retreating,  till  the  last 
one,  far,  far  in  the  distance,  either  showed 
the  flt-ecy-like  palace  of  eternal  snow,  or 
gently  blended  with  the  cerulean  blue. 

But  before  us  was  the  scene  which  fixed 
our  whole  attention.  Here,  for  miles  upon 
miles,  stretched  away  a  vast  prairie,  whose 
tail,  r:\nk  grass,  gently  touched  by  a  light 
breeze,  undulated  like  the  swelling  of  the 
sea  in  a  calm,  over  which  fluttered  and 
hoverod  myriads  of  birds  and  insects,  now 
dipping-  down,  skimming  along  the  surface 
and  disappearing  altogether,  or  soaring  up 
ward,  cleaving  the  balmy  air,  and  display 
ing  their  little  bodies  as  mere  specks  upon 
the  blue  background.  To  relieve  the  mo 
notony  otherwise  attendant,  here  and  there, 
at  long  intervals,  rose  little  knolls,  clus 
tered  with  trees,  resembling  islands  push 
ing  up  from  the  glassy  surface  of  a  tranquil 
ocean.  And  away,  and  away,  and  away  to 
the  dim  distance  stretched  this  same  sea- 
like  prairie,  till  the  eye,  unable  to  trace  it 
farther,  saw  nothing  but  the  soft  blending 
of  earth  and  sky. 

For  some  moments  we  all  remained  si 
lent,  gazing  upon  the  scene  with  feelings 
peculiar  to  each.  Lilian  was  the  first  to 
speak : 

"O,  how  beautiful ! "  she  exclaimed,  rap 
turously.  "  How  beautiful  and  how  sub 
lime  is  this  great  ocean  of  earth  !  " 

"  Ay,  sublime  indeed  !  "  rejoined  Eva. 
"It  is  just  such  a  scene  as  ever  fills  me 
with  rapture — inspires  me  with  the  sacred 
feeling  of  poesy.  0,  that  like  one  of  those 
gay  birds,  I  could  wing  my  way  above  it ! 
Would  it  not  be  delightful,  Lilian  ?  " 

"  Charming  !  "  answered  the  other. 

' '  But  can  we  not  skim  its  surface  on  out 
fleet  steeds  ?  Come  !  for  a  ride  !  a  ride  I 
What  say  you,  gentleman  ?"  she  added, 
appealing  to  us. 

"So  pleasant  a  request,  from  so  fair  a 


LEN1     LEOTI;    OR, 


petitioner,  must  nex;ds  be  complied  with," 
returned  one  of  the  party,  gallantly,  bow 
ing  gracefully  to  Eva. 

The  speaker  was  a  young  man,  some 
twenty- Jive  years  of  aye,  of  fine  person 
and  good  address,  with  a  handsome  and 
prepossessing  countenance,  whereon  was 
legibly  stamped  frankness,  generosity  and 
nobleness  of  soul .  There  was  an  eloquence 
in  his  soft,  dark  eye,  and  a  loftiness  or" 
purpose  on  his  clear,  open  brow,  which 
woxild  have  ranked  him  far  above  the  herd, 
had  even  a  finished  education,  of  which  he 
was  possessed,  been  wanting.  To  be  brief 
in  any  remarks,  he  was  the  only  son  of  one 
of  the  merchants  who  had  emigrated  from 
the  State  of  New  York  to  Oregon  City  du 
ring  the  previous  summer,  and  one  of  the 
party  who  had  so  far  been  our  companions 
of  the  long  journey.  He  was  now  on  his 
way  East,  to  arrange  some  unsettled  affairs 
and  purchase  more  goods  for  his  father, 
with  the  design  of  returning  to  Oregon  the 
following  season.  During  the  past  winter, 
Elmer  Fitzgerald  (so  he  was  named)  had 
once  or  twice  met  with  Eva  Mortimer  ;  but 
20  acquaintance  had  been  formed  with  each 
other  previous  to  both  parties  setting  forth 
on  the  present  journey,  where,  being  daily 
and  hourly  thrown  together,  sharing  alike 
the  hardships  and  perils  of  the  wilderness, 
it  was  but  natural,  that  between  two  such 
individuals  of  refined  manners  and  culti 
vated  tastes,  there  should  gradually  spring 
up  an  intimacy,  which  time  and  circum 
stances  might  ripen  to  something  more. 
But,  as  I  have  said  before,  let  me  not  an 
ticipate. 

As  Elmer  spoke,  I  noted  that  both  his 
own  and  the  countenance  of  Eva  slightly 
flushed,  and  quickly  turning  to  me,  the  lat 
ter  said : 

"  And  what  say  you,  Francis  ?  " 

"  I  shall  echo  the  words  of  Mr.  Fitz 
gerald." 

"Then  we  will  go!"  said  Lilian,  joy 
fully.  "  But  brother,"  she  added,  turning 
to  Charles,  "  you  appear  gloomy,  and  de 
jected.  Do  you  object  to  this  arrange 
ment  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  speak  candidly,"  he  answered 
*eriously,  " I  do." 

"  For  what  reason  ?  "  I  inquired. 

••  I  can  give  you  no  other  than  what  I  told 
ruu  last  night — a  presentiment  of  danger." 


"  Pshaw  !  Charley,"  I  rejoined,  "there 
is  no  danger  here.  The  sadness  of  Eva- 
line  has  made  you  gloomy,  and  a  brisk 
nue  over  this  prairie  will  set  you  right 
again." 

"  And  it  will  be  beneficial  to  dear  sister 
Evaline  also,"  chimed  in  Eva,  "  by  divert 
ing  her  thoughts  from  her  present  cause  of 


_ 

"  Suit  yourselves  in  the  matter,"  rejoin 
ed  Huntly.  "  I  shall  of  course  do  as  the 
rest.  I  merely  spoke  my  apprehensions, 
which,  after  all,  may  only  be  foolish  fan 
cies." 

"  Lo  !  yonder  Evaline  comes!"  cried 
Lilian  ;  and  looking  toward  the  village,  a 
part  of  which  was  visible  from  where  w« 
stood,  we  beheld  her  rapidly  descending 
the  mountain  on  her  little  pony. 

Charles  instantly  wheeled  his  horse  ami 
rode  away  to  meet  her,  and  presently  re 
turned  in  her  company.  She  was  sad  and 
silent,  and  her  eyes  were  red  with  weep 
ing,  while  her  features  generally,  showed 
traces  of  having  recently  passed  through 
a  very  trying  scene. 

On  being  informed  of  our  present  de 
sign,  she  silently  acquiesced  ;  and  iibern- 
ting  our  mules,  that  they  might  not  suffer 
in  our  absence,  we  rode  slowly  down  to  the 
prairie,  and  set  off  at  a  gallop,  most  of  u«i 
in  gay  spirits,  with  the  understanding  that, 
in  case  we  became  separated,  we  should 
all  meet  again  at  the  starting  point. 

Man  plans  and  God  performs.  That 
meeting,  for  some  of  the  party,  was  des 
tined  never  to  take  place. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

A  MERRY  RIDE  —  ANOTHER   BEAUTIFUL  VIEW 

AN  EXCITING    HACK SEPARATION THB 

CONTEST  DECIDED ALARM THE    FRAIKIB 

ON  FIRE FLIGHT TERRIBLE  CONFLA 
GRATION  APPALLING  STRUGGLE HOR 
RIBLE  SCENE LIFE  AND  DEATH. 

FOR  an  hour  or  two  we  spurred  on  to 
the  eastward,  in  company,  through  the  tul) 
grass,  which  brushe-l  our  feet  at  every  step, 


ADVENTURES    II\     THE    FAR    WEST 


and  made  our  horses  labor  exceedingly, 
when  we  came  to  one  of  the  small  hills  or 
knolls  previously  mentioned,  where  we 
baited  to  give  our  panting  and  foaming 
iteecis  a  few  minutes'  rest.  This  knoll 
was  clustered  with  beautiful  trees,  under 
whose  refreshing  shade  bubbled  up  a  spring 
of  clear,  cold  water,  wherewith  we  first 
refreshed  ourselves  and  then  our  horses. 
From  the  brow  of  this,  the  view  of  every 
thing  was  more  delightful  than  from  that 
of  the  one  we  had  left  behind  us.  Then 
we  were  looking  on  the  prairie  only  in  one 
or  two  directions  —  now  we  stood  above 
and  surveyed  it  on  all  sides.  To  the  north 
of  us  was  a  small  ridge,  in  shape  resem 
bling  an  ox-bow,  the  southern  bend  of 
which  was  about  five  miles  distant.  This, 
after  running  due  north  for  a  considerable 
distance,  appeared  to  tnke  a  zig-zag  course 
and  unite  with  the  Black  Hills,  which, 
sublime  in  their  grandeur,  bounded  the 
view  to  the  west.  To  the  south  and  east, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  penetrate,  stretch 
ed  away  and  away  the  beautiful  prairie, 
with  nothing  to  relieve  its  monotony  but 
an  occasional  knoll  like  the  one  whereon 
we  stood,  and  which  forcibly  reminded 
me  of  the  oases  I  had  seen  in  the  great 
desert. 

"  O,  this  is  delightful  —  enchanting!" 
exclaimed  Eva,  with  a  flush  of  animation. 
"  This  is  what  I  love.  It  expands  the  soul, 
and  bears  one  above  the  groveling  thoughts 
of  every  day  life.  Nature  !"  she  added, 
apostrophizing,  "  I  love  thee  in  thy  gran 
deur  and  thy  simplicity  !  and  know,  as  I 
gaze  upon  thee,  that  I  behold  the  handi 
work  of  that  Great  Power  above,  which 
regulates  alike  the  mighty  systems  of  ten  j 
thousand  tunes  ten  thousand  worlds,  and  j 
tl»e  most  trifling  event  that  takes  place 
upon  them.  All  alike  move  by  a  univer 
sal  and  immutable  law;  and  each,  its  it 
were,  complete  in  itself,  is  but  a  minor  | 
branch  of  that  great  machine  which  works 
for  one  almighty  and  incomprehensible  de 
sign.  Were  I  a  poet  that  could  pen  my 
thoughts,  I  would  seek  such  a  place  as  this, 
and  alone,  away  from  the  discords  of  my 
fellow  beiags,  write  such  inspiring  words, 
that  ages  yet  to  come  should  read  and 
wouder  over  my  pages,  and  call  them  the 
result  of  a  holy  inspiration." 

"Ay,  sister,"  cried  Evaline,  "  thus  have 


I  felt  a  thousand  times  ;  and  thus  it  is  i. 
comes  so  hard  for  me  to  part  from  these 
enrapturing  scenes.  Now  can  you  blame 
me  for  my  regrets  ?  " 

"No,  sweet  sister,"  answered  the  other, 
"  I  do  not  blame  you — far  from  it.  I  only 
feel  you  are  a  gem  too  rare  to  part  with." 

"And  so  think  we  all,"  I  rejoined  ;  "and 
one  of  us  at  least,  if  I  may  be  permitted 
the  expression,  thinks  doubly  so;"  and  I 
glanced  at  my  friend. 

"  Ay,  Frank,"  he  answered,  "  treble  that 
if  you  like.  But  come,  my  friends,  the 
day  is  advancing  —  hud  we  not  better  re 
turn  ?  They  will  look  anxiously  for  us  at 
the  fort." 

"  One  ride  more  first,"  said  Eva,  quick 
Iy.     "  I  cannot  bear  to  quit  this  scene  for 
ever,  without  one  more  glorious  ride." 

"  Whither  shall  it  be,  then  ?  "  asked 
Lilian. 

"  To  yonder  knoll  ;•"  and  she  pointed 
away  to  the  eastward. 

"  That  is  far,"  rejoined  Huntly,  "  and  I 
fear  we  shall  not  get  back  till  night,  and 
the  day  will  be  lost." 

"  Lost  ?  "  echoed  Eva,  her  eyes  sparkling 
with  animation.  "  Call  you  such  a  day  as 
this  lost?  Come,  gentlemen,"  she  added, 
turning  to  the  rest  of  us,  "  you  do  not  think 
so,  I'll  wager  !  On  !  let  us  on  !  I  dare 
you  to  a  race  !  and  my  glove  to  him  whc 
first  puts  foot  on  yonder  hill  in  advance  ot 
me." 

So  '-aying,  ghe  gracefully  waved  her 
hand,  and  tightening  her  rein,  pressed  her 
tiery  steed  down  the  declivity  and  over  the 
prairie  at  headlong  speed. 

"  A  race  !  a  race  !  The  glove  !  the 
glove  !  "  cried  some  half  a  dozen  voices, 
and  instantly  the  whole  party  was  in  com 
motion. 

Those  who  chanced  to  be  dismounted, 
at  once  sprang  to  their  saddles,  and  all 
dashed  away  after  their  fair  champion, 
who,  sitting  erect,  with  the  air  of  a  queen, 
was  now  urging  her  gallant  beast  to  do  hit 
utmost. 

Next  behind  Eva  rode  Elmer  Fitzgerald. 
striving  hard  to  evertake  her,  followed  by 
Lilian,  myself,  and  the  rest  of  the  party, 
some  in  couples  and  others  alone,  eacfc 
and  all  contending  to  be  lirst  at  the  far  u(T 
goal.  I  say  all,  but  I  must  except  Charle* 
and  Evaline,  who  brought  up  the  rear  at  * 


100 


LEWI     LEOT1;     OR, 


tardy  pace,  and  Deemed  ratlier  deliberately 
following  us  without  excitement  and  inter 
est,  than  taking  any  part  in  the  race. 

With  the  balance  of  us,  for  the  first  five 
minutes,  the  contest  appeared  equal- — 
neither  gaining  ground  on  the  party,  nor 
falling  away  from  the  position  he  had  ta 
ken  at  the  setting-out.  All  was  life  and 
excitement ;  and  merry  shouts  and  gay 
justs  rang  out,  as  on  we  pressed  our  pant 
ing  steeds  through  the  tall  grass,  startling 
thousands  of  smaJl  animals  from  their  quiet 
retreats,  and  scaring  up  (locks  of  birds, 
which,  as  they  soared  away,  twittered  their 
discontent,  and  looked  down  upon  us  wiih 
wonder  and  fear.  On,  on  we  rushed,  com 
pletely  lost  in  the  enlivening  chase,  and 
heeding  nought  but  the  still  distant  ffoal 

•  •  ® 

we  were  striving  to  gain.  On,  on  !  still 
oil  !  with  the  tire  of  youthful  ambition 
urging  us  to  renewed  exertions. 

At  length  the  difference  in  the  speed  of 
our  horses  began  to  be  seen.  Eva  yet 
kept  her  position  in  advance,  but  was  grad 
ually  losing  ground  before  the  fleeter 
steed  of  Elmer  Fitzgerald.  Lilian  and  I, 
side  by  side,  still  managed  to  hold  our  own, 
and  were  gaining  on  all  the  others,  who 
were  now  strung  out  in  a  long  single  line 
behind. 

Half  an  hour  passed,  and  the  change  in 
our  previous  positions  became  more  dis 
tinctly  marked.  Elmer  now  rode  head-to- 
head  with  our  fair  leader,  but  both  had 
increased  the  distance  between  themselves 
and  us  materially.  I  looked  back,  and 
beheld  the  line  stretched  out  fur  more  than 
a  mile,  far  beyond  which  I  could  dimly 
discern  my  friend  and  Evaline  slowly 
bringing  up  the  rear.  Most  of  the  party 
had  by  this  time  despaired  of  winning  the 
race,  had  even  withdrawn  from  the  con 
test,  and  were  now  following  at  a  leisure 
pace.  A  few  yet  held  on,  but  only  for  a 
few  minutes,  when  they  took  pattern  by 
the  others,  and  we  were  lefi  masters  of  the 
field. 

For  another  quarter  of  an  hour  we  push 
ed  on  with  vigor,  when  the  panting  of  our 
foaming  steeds  warned  us  to  check  them. 
Elmer  and  Eva  were  the  first  to  take  this 
precaution,  and  on  our  coming  up  to  them, 
the  latter  said : 

"  I  suppose  as  we  have  distanced  all  the 
Others,  there  will  not  be  much  strife  be- 


I  tween  us.  At  all  events,  we  must  not  kit 
onr  horses,  and  tliey  are  already  prcttj 
well  blown.  How  much  was  I  deceived 
in  the  distance  !  When  I  proposed  this 
race,  I  had  no  idea  there  were  more  than 
five  miles -between  point  and  point;  and 
yet  some  eight  or  ten  miles,  if  I  greatly  ert 
not  in  judgment,  have  been  gone  over,  and 
yonder  hill  is  still  miles  ahead." 

"  Distance  on  level  ground,  from  an  ele 
vated  point,  is  always  deceiving, "  I  an 
swered.  "  But  come  !  I  do  not  see  the 
necessity  of  going  farther.  Give  your 
companion  the  glove,  for  I  acknowledge 
him  winner,  and  let  us  return." 

"  Pray,  take  Mr.  Leigh  ton's  advice,  Miss 
Mortimer!  "  urged  Fitzgerald  ;  "  for  it  is 
a  long  distance  to  where  we  left  our 
mules,  and  our  horses  witt  suffer  enough 
at  the  best." 

"  Ay,  ay,  modest  sir?"  exclaimed  Eva, 
with  a  ringing  laugh.  "I  understand. 
You  wish  to  be  acknowledged!  victor,  be 
fore  you  have  won.  By  my  faith,  sir,  I 
had  thought  you  possessed  of  more  spi:!? 
than  that.  I  am  willing  to  return  forthr.t 
matter  ;  but  I  cannot  yield  the  glove  until 
the  conditions  on  which  it  was  offered  ar» 
complied  with." 

"  Then  the  glove  shall  KJ  mine,  if  1 
have  to  make  the  remainder  of  the  jour 
ney  alone  !  "  cried  Elmer.  "  Do  not  flutter 
yourself,  Miss  Mortimer,  that  I  have  ej- 
erted  myself  thus  far  for  nothing.  The 
prize  I  must  have  ;  I  insist  upon  it ;  and 
it  remains  for  you  to  say " 

"  Good  heavens  !  what  is  that?"  ex 
claimed  Lilian,  interrupting  the  other,  and* 
pointing  toward  the  south. 

We  all  turned  our  eyes  in  the  direction 
indicated,  and  beheld,  stretching  along  th» 
horizon,  what  appeared  to  be  a  dense, 
black,  rolling  cloud. 

"  A  heavy  thunder  storm  is  approach 
ing,"  said  Fitzgerald  in  reply,  "  and  we 
stand  a  fair  chance  of  being  thoroughly 
drenched." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  rejoined 
I ;  "  for  I  have  never  seen  a  cloud  ol 
such  singular  appearance.  See  !  how  it 
gradually  creeps  away  to  the  right  and 
left?" 

"  And  there  are  bright  flashes,  too  !  " 
exclaimed    Eva,    breathless    with 
excitement. 


ADVENTURES    IN     THE    FAR    WEST. 


101 


"  What  is  I.  .'  what  is  it  ?  "  cried  Lilian, 
grasping  my  arm  with  a  trembling  hand, 
and  gazing  upon  the  scene  with  a  pale, 
terrified  look.  "  It  is  not  a  cloud — it  can- 
no*  ~»e  A  cloud — it  is  something  more  aw 
ful.  See  !  see  !  how  fast  it  spreads  !  And 
there  !  there  !  mark  you  those  Hashes  ?  " 

Suddenly  the  who'e  horrible  truth  flash 
ed  upon  me,  and  for  the  moment  held  me 
dumb  with  terror. 

"  You  are  pair,  with  alarm  !"  pursued 
Iii Han,  turning  to  me  and  no, ing  the  ago 
nized  expression  of  my  countenance. 

"Speak,  Francis  !  what  is  it '?"  scream 
ed  Eva. 

"Merciful  God !  "  I  gasped,  "  the  prairie 
is  on  lire  !  We  are  iosi  • — our  doom  is 
tailed  !  " 

"  Lost !  "  slmeh"d  Lilian  and  Eva. 

"  Oh,  God  !  is  there  no  escape  ?  ''  add 
ed  the  latter,  wildly.  "  We  must — we 
must  escape  !  " 

"Flight  —  flight  alone  can  save  us!" 
ahouted  Fitzgerald.  "  Perchance  we  may 
reach  yonder  hill.  It  is  our  only  hope." 

As  he  spoke,  he  spurred  his  steed,  struck 
Eva's  with  his  bridle  rein,  and  away 
bounded  both  with  all  the  speed  in  their 
power. 

"  Follow  !  '  cried  I  to  Lilian,  imitating 
the  example  of  the  other,  and  in  the  wild 
excitement  of  the  moment,  completely 
losing  all  my  wonted  presence  of  mind. 
"  Follow  hard  —  strain  every  nerve  —  and 
(rod  vouchsafe  us  victon  !  " 

It  was  no  longer  a  race  of  pleasure,  but 
one  of  fearful  agony — our  lives  the  stake, 
and  heavy  odds  ag-ainst  us.  Can  1  describe 
it,  reader  ? — describe  our  feelings  in  those 
awful  moments  of  horrible  suspense  ?  No  ! 
'{  is  beyond  the  strength  of  the  pen — the 
power  of  language — arid  must  be  left  to 
/our  imagination. 

Four  miles,  at  the  least — four  long  and 
seemingly  interminable  ir.Met; —  intervene 
between  us  and  our  c'eslinalion.  Cau  we 
reach  it?  We  have  bm  littk- hope.  On, 
on  we  urge,  with  whip  and  spur,  our  al 
ready  drooping  horses--and  on,  on  comes 
thi;  mighty  destroyer,  ru  if  sent  f.u  execute 
the  loag  pent  up  vengeance  of  r<\\  offended 
God. 

Away  to  the  east,  and  away  to  ;he  west. 
and  rushing  toward  the  north,  with  the 
fury  of  a  devastating  tornado,  comes  this 


terrific  Avenger,  sweeping  all  in  ins  course, 
making  all  black  and  desolate  which  a  fei» 
minutes  since  had  seemed  so  lovely,  roll 
ing  up  to  the  very  dome  of  Heaven  his 
huge  volumes  of  smoke,  of  gigantic  and 
hideous  shapes,  with  red  sheets  of  flame 
issuing  from  its  appalling  blackness,  as 
they  were  the  burning  tongues  and  eyes 
of  hell's  unchained  demons,  so  shaped  by 
our  wild  and  distorted  imaginations.  On, 
on  ! — how  our  horses  snort,  and  foam,  and 
tremble  !  They  have  caught  our  fears, 
and  are  doing  their  utmost  to  save  us  and 
themselves.  On,  on,  on!  —  two  miles, 
thank  God  !  are  parsed — but,  alas  !  there 
are  two  more  before  us,  and  our  gallant 
beasts  are  already  beginning  to  falter  with 
fatigue.  On,  on  ! — behold  our  terrible  foe 
advance  !  his  iu'ry  banners  streaming  up 
brighter,  redder  and  more  bright  as  he 
nears  us — his  ten  thousand  scorching  and 
blasting  tongues,  hissing,  roaring  and  de 
stroying  every  living  thing  that  comes 
within  their  reach. 

Oh  !  how  sublime— -how  awfully  sub 
lime  this  spectacle  !  on  which  we  rivet  our 
fascinated  eyes,  while  our  hearts  leap  to 
our  throats,  and  our  lips  are  compressed 

:  with  an  indescribable  fear. 

Now  listen  to  those  apparently  unearth 
ly  sounds  !  The  prairie  is  alive  with  mil 
lions  of  voices,  which  fancy  would  give  to 
the  fiery  tongues  of  this  rushing  Monster, 
as  the  cheering  song  of  his  death-dealing 
advance — but  which  stern  reality  tells  us 
are  the  frantic  cries  of  droves  and  herds 
of  wild  animals,  of  all  species,  mad  with 
affright,  all  pressing  forward  together,  pell- 
meil,  to  escape  one  common,  but  ever 
conquering  enemy. 

Look  yonder  !  There  goes  a  stampede 
of  buffalo.  Yonder  !  Another  of  wild 

.horses.  How  they  tear  ahead,  with  foam 
ing  mouths,  expanded  nostrils,  dilated 
eyes,  ahd  a  tread  that  makes  the  very 
earth  tremble  beneath  them  ! 

Look  closer — nearer  !  Here — here  they 
come  !  —  above  us,  before  us,  behind  us, 
beneath  us — on  all  and  every  side — birds, 
beasts,  reptiles  and  insects.  How  they  dart 
past  us  now  wirh  lolling  tongues,  and  fiorjr 
eyes  half  starting  from  their  sockets,  en 
tangling  the  very  legs  of  our  horses,  and 

j  causing  them  to   rear,  and   plunge,    and 

i  snort,  and   shriek  with  appalling  terror  \ 


10* 


UENI     LEOTI;    OR, 


Hero  are  wolves,  and  wolverines,  and 
rabbits,  and  boars,  and  serpents  —  each 
and  all  howling,  shrieking,  and  hissing 
their  fears. 

God  of  heavens  !  what  a  scene  ! 

On,  on,  for  our  only  hope  !  Another 
pjile  is  passed  :  oh  !  that  it  were  another 
• — the  last  !  We  near  the  haven  of  our 
safety  (1an  we — shall  we  ever  reach  it  ? 
Behold  the  Destroyer,  where  lie  comes  ! 
L'p,  up  to  the  mid  heaven  now  rolls  the 
smoke  of  his  conquest !  and  the  sun  grows 
dark  behind  it,  as  he  were  mourning  for 
the  destruction  he  is  forced  to  look  upon. 

Hark  !  what  sound  is  that  ! — that  roar 
ing  sound  !  It  is  the  voice  of  the  Fire- 
Spirit,  as  he  were  mocking  our  hopes. 
Must  we  die  now,  wiih  safety  almost  within 
our  grasp  ?  Why  do  our  horses  stagger 
and  reel  ?  Have  they  not  strength  for 
this  last  eiTort  !  See  !  we  are  almost 
saved.  Yon  hill  looms  up  invitingly  be 
fore  us.  Oh  !  for  strength  of  another  five 
minute's  duration  !  Five  minutes — only 
five — an  eternity  to  us  ! 

Ha  !  (-he  dense  smoke  is  lowering  upon 
us,  and  we  shall  be  suffocated  !  No  ! 
thai,  breeze  drives  it  back.  All  thanks  to 
God  for  that  !  There  is  still  hope. 

On,  on  !  still  on  !  How  swift  is  the 
flame,  and  how  tardy  our  horses  !  They 
have  no  spirit,  seemingly.  They  only 
creep  and  crawl  liLe  snails.  My  fortune 
all,  to  hold  out  another  two  minutes. 

Ha  !  God  help  us  now  !  Lilian's  steed 
reels— -totters — stumbles  —  falls!  She  is 
down.  1  hear  her  shriek  for  help.  How 
strangely  that  shriek  mingles  with  the 
roaring  and  crackling  of  this  great  prairie 
fire  !  Now  on  my  feet  1  seize  her  hand. 
Now  my  hor.se  .staggers  under  a  double 
Wright.  lint  he  is  a  gallant,  beast  ;  and 
plunging  forward,  with  a  dying  effort,  falls 
at  the  base  of  the  knoll,  which  Elmer  and 
Eva  had  gained  in  advance  of  us.  One 
desperate  effort  more,  and  Lilian,  all  un 
conscious  of  fear  and  danger,  is  borne  in 
my  arms  into  a  dense  thicket,  where  I  sink 
upon  the  earth,  and,  half  stifled  with 
smoke,  amid  the  roaring  of  a  mighty  con- 
lUgration,  thank  God  its  Humes  can  neither 
reach  me  nor  the  being  I  love. 


CHAPTEH    XXIV. 

THE  MEETING ALARM   FOR  OUIt  FR'EXDS  — 

A  SCtNIi  OF    DESOLATION TERRIBLE   SUS 
PENSE REGRETS PRISONERS  FOR  A   DAT 

A    NIGHT    OF    HORROR A   GOLDEN    MOR» 

OVR    STEPS    RETRACED HIDEOUS    SPEC 
TACLES OUR    WORST    FEARS    SEEMING) I 

CONFIRMED JOY    AT    LAST. 

No  tongue  can  portray  my  feelings,  m^ 
deep  emotions  of  gratitude  to  the  All-wise 
Preserver,  as,  with  the  still  unconscious 
Lilian  reposing  in  my  arms,  I  remained 
motionless  a  Minute,  enveloped  in  a  pall 
of  smoky  darkness,  listening  to  the  roar  of 
the  awful  flumes,  that  surged  around  and 
onward,  scorching  the  green  leaves  and 
grass  \vithin  a  few  feet,  but  leaving  me 
unharmed.  Once,  fur  a  moment,  when 
the  smoke  settled  in  so  thick  that  day  be 
came  night,  and  the  air  too  much  heated 
for  respiration,  I  fancied  we  might  die  ol 
suffocation.  But  it  was  only  for  a  mo 
ment.  A  draught  of  wind  revived  mo, 
and  lifted  the  smoke,  which  rolled  away  ir 
mighty  masses,  after  its  master  spirit,  the 
devouring  ek'ment ;  while  day-light  Mgain 
streaming  in  through  the  interwoven 
branches  of  this  beautiful  retreat,  marie 
my  heart  bound  with  rapture  at  our  safe 
deliverance. 

Lilian  now  opened  her  eyes,  and  for  nn 
instant  gazed  upon  me  with  a  bewildered 
expression.  I  strained  her  to  my  heart, 
pressed  my  lips  to  hers,  and  whispered  : 

"  We  are  saved,  dearest." 

"  Saved  '?  "  she  echoed:  "  Saved  ?  Then 
it  was  not  a  horrible  tin-am,  but  a  frightful 
ly-hideous  realily,  at  the  thought  of  which 
the  soul  sickens  and  grows  faint?" 

"  All  that  language  has  power  to  depict 
of  the  awful,  it  was,  and  ten  times  more."1 

"Lilian!  Franris  ! "  now  called  the 
voice  of  Eva  ;  ami  springing  through  the 
bushes,  accompanied  by  Elmer,  she  rushed 
up  to  the  former,  threw  her  arms  around 
her  neck,  and  each  wept  tears  of  joy  in 
the  other's  embrace. 

"  P)Ut  Evaline  and  Charles  —  what  of 
them  ?  "  cried  Eva,  looking  up,  paid  witfc 
alarm. 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR     WEST 


103 


"  Gracious  God  !  "  shouted  I,  "  what  of 
ibem  indeed  !  "  for  in  the  frantic  bewilder 
ment  of  the  last  few  minutes,  till  thought 
of  everything  but  escape  from  death,  had 
been  driven  from  my  mind.  "'  Perchance 
they  have  perished  !  Great  God  !  what  a 
thought  !  To  the  brow  of  the  hill  let  us 
speed  at  once  !  " 

As  1  spoke,  we  all  rushed  up  the  ac 
clivity,  and  soon  gained  a  point  whence 
we  could  gaze  upon  the  desolated  scene. 
What  a  fearful  change  a  few  minutes  had 
wrought !  Where,  a  short  time  since,  all 
was  life  and  beauty — the  tall  grass  softly 
undulating  to  the  light-winged  zephyr — 
we  now  beheld  only  a  black,  smoking,  dis 
mal  waste,  without  a  sign  of  living  thing 
to  relieve  its  gloom.  The  fire  had  passed 
us  entirely  ;  but  away  to  the  east,  to  the 
north,  and  the  'west,  spread  a  dense  cloud 
of  rolling  smoke,  amid  which  we  could 
perceive  the  lurid  flashes  of  the  death- 
dealing  victor,  as  on,  on  he  sped,  seeking 
new  victims  to  feed  his  insatiable  maw. 
Here  and  there,  in  every  direction  on  his 
smoking  trail,  were  strewn  the  blackened 
carcasses  of  such  animals  as  had  been 
overtaken  in  their  flight.  At  the  foot  of 
the  hill  whereon  we  stood,  in  the  exact 
spot  where  he  had  fallen,  lay  the  remains 
of  the  gallant  beast  which  had  borne  me 
through  so  many  perils,  and  which,  at  the 
very  last,  had  saved  my  life  at  the  expense 
of  his  own.  A  few  rods  farther  on  was 
the  one  Lilian  had  ridden,  now  an  ungainly 
mass  of  charred  flesh.  Altogether,  it  was 
an  appalling  scene  of  desolation,  that  made 
the  heart  sick  to  look  upon. 

All  these  things  I  took  in  at  a  glance, 
but  without  dwelling  upon  them  for  a  mo 
ment.  One  wild,  maddening  thought  alone 
occupied  my  brain.  My  friend  and  Eva- 
line — were  they  lost  or  saved  ?  What  a 
torturing  uncertainty,  where  nothing  could 

O  ,*  ^ 

be  known  !  1  strained  my  eyes,  and  vain 
ly  «trove  to  penelrate  the.  sable  vail  which 
curtained  the  view  to  the  west.  All  there 
was  wrapped  in  the  frightful  gloom  of 
impenetrable  darkness.  Perchance  they 
udght  be  living,  but  even  now  in  the  ago 
nies  of  a  most  terrible  death!  —  and  1 
groaned,  and  shuddered,  and  felt  my  brain 
grow  dizzy  and  nay  heart  sicken  at  the 
bare  possibility. 

For  some  minutes  we  all  stood  and  stared 


as  if  rooted  to  the  spot,  pale  and  speech 
less  with  the  agony  of  suspense.  At  length 
the  smoke  began  to  clear  away  between 
us  and  the  point  from  whence  we  had  set 
out  for  the  race.  Alas  !  it  brought  no 
hope,  but  rather  despair.  All,  as  else 
where,  was  black  and  lifeless,  and  we  felt 
our  doubts  removed  by  the  worst  of  c°r- 
tainties. 

"  Oh,  fatal  day  !  "  cried  Eva,  wringing 
her  hands  ;  "  and  most  fatal  adventure  ! 
Oh,  God !  my  sister  and  friend  lost !  and 
all  through  my  rashness.  Strong-headed 
and  giddy,  I  would  not  heed  his  forebod 
ing  counsels,  but  madly  rushed  away, 
dragging  him  to  his  own  death.  May  God 
in  his  mercy  forgive  me  !  for  I  can  never 
forgive  myself.  Never — no,  never — shall 
I  be  happy  again." 

"  Nay,  dearest  Eva,"  said  Lilian,  consol 
ingly,  twining  her  arms  around  the  other's 
neck:  "  Nay,  my  dear  sister — for  a  sister 
to  me  you  seem — do  not  reproach  yourself 
thus  !  You  were  to  blame  in  this  no 
more  than  I,  or  the  rest.  You  knew  not, 
dreamed  not,  there  was  danger — neither 
did  any  of  us  —  and  the  forebodings  of 
Charles  were  merely  vague  fancies  with 
out  even  a  foundation.  Had  he  warned 
us  of  certain  danger  known  lo  himself, 
then  we  might  have  been  considered  rash 
in  disregarding  his  counsel.  As  it  is,  I 
feel  we  have  been  only  the  blind  instru 
ments  in  the  hands  of  the  Almighty,  for 
working  out  one  of  his  mysterious  designs. 
But  do  not  let  us  despair.  I  stiil  have 
hope  that  Charles  and  Evaline  are  safe. 
They  were  far  behind  us,  and  it  is  possi 
ble  may  have  turned  back  and  gained 
Bonder  hill  in  safety." 

"  God  send  it  be  so  !  "  ejaculated  I— 
"though  I  have  my  fears.  But,  Eva," 
I  added,  "  I  insist  you  do  not  blame  your 
self.  If  any  one  is  to  blame,  it  is  I." 

"  You,  Francis  ?  But  you  merely  say 
this  to  console  me." 

"  Nay,  I  will  prove  it.  But  for  my  plan, 
we  had  all  ere  this  been  far  on  our  way  to 
Fort  Laramie.  It  was  I  proposed  to  Eva- 
line  we  should  leave  her  alone  with  her 
friends,  and  designated  the  spot  whither 
we  would  ride  and  await  her.  It  was  I 
that  made  light  of  the  presentiment  of 
Huntly,  and  scoffed  at  his  idea  of  danger. 
So  blame  not  vourself  Eva !  Heaven 


LEN1    LEOTI;    OR, 


knows,  th«  blow  falls  lifiavy  enough  upon 
as  all,  without  the  additional  .weight  of 
either  one  thinking  it  the  result  of  his  or 
h<  r  individual  misdoing." 

"  Ay,"  n-joined  Elmer,  "  so  think  I.  If 
one  is  to  blame,  nil  are — but  in  my  opin 
ion,  none  me  at  fault;  and  certainly  not 
you,  Miss  Mortimer." 

But  I  will  not  follow  in  detail  our  gloomy 
conversation,  nor  lunger  dwell  upon  our 
feelings.  Suffice,  that  for  something  like 
an  hour,  we  stood  watching  the  lire,  as  on 
it  rushed,  away  and  away  to  the  dim  dis 
tance,  until  it  became  lost  to  our  \ision, 
leaving  behind  it  the  n.ost  dismal  scene  I 
had  ever  beheld. 

Another  hour  passed,  and  still  we  stood 
in  the  self-same  spot,  uncertain  what  course 
lo  pursue.  We  had  eagerly  scanned  every 
object,  and  strained  our  eyes  in  every  di 
rection,  in  the  hope  of  being  rejoiced  by 
the  sight  of  one  living  thing.  But  the 
hope  proved  fallacious.  All  was  silent, 
and  black,  and  motionless,  on  this  great 
tield  of  death  and  dcsohitur. 

But  what  should  be  donp,  was  now  the 
all  important  question.  The  earth  was 
still  smoking  with  heat,  ri.d  the  sun,  in 
mid-heaven,  pouring  down  his  scorching 
ravs,  with  scarcely  a  reviving  bie*th  of 

*       '  J  O 

air ;  so  that  we  could  net  venture  from 
our  shady  retreat  with  t-ny  safety.  Be 
sides,  but  two  of  our  horses  had  been 
spared,  and  ihese  were  1,0  exhausted  as  to 
be  of  no  service  to  us  for  the.  day  at  least. 

How  long  the  earth  would  remain  heat 
ed,  we  could  not  tell ;  but  in  all  probability 
till  the  day  should  become  too  far  advanc 
ed  for  us  .to  gain  another  safe  point  ere 
nightfall — in  vvh'ch  event,  we  wou.d  again 
be  in  imminent  danger  from  the  ravenous 
beasts,  that  would  come  with  the  dark 
ness  to  prey  upon  the  half-burnt  carcasses 
of  their  fellows.  In  view  of  all  this,  there 
appeared  no  alternative  but  to  remain 
where  we  w^re  over  night,  and  make  the 
.best  of  the  circumstances  we  could  not 
,  alter. 

This,  after  the  proposal,  discussion  and 
filial  rejection  of  several  plans,  was  at  last 
reluctantly  consented  to,  when  Elmer  and 
.myself  immediately  set  about  constructing 
n  rude  lodge  for  Lilian  and  Eva,  who,  to 
.tlteir  praise  be  it  said,  bore  their  misiur- 
.  tunes  with  a  tirm,  patient  nnd  heroic 


7'esignation,  that  would  nave  won  ouradrni- 
nuion,  even  had  we,  in  every  other  respect, 
been  wholly  indifferent  to  their  many  no 
ble  charms. 

Our  present  asylum  was  a  beautiful  and 
romantic  spot,  of  some  half  a  dozen  acres 
in  extent,  watered  by  a  fine  spring,  shaded 
with  trees,  and  carpeted  with  a  velvet-like 
sward  of  sweet,  green  grass,  interspersed 
with  white,  red,  purple,  yellow  and  gold 
colored  flowers.  In  short,  it  seemed  a 
fiardcn  of  Eden  on  an  arid  waste  ;  and 
had  our  friends  been  with  us,  or  even  had 
we  been  assured  of  their  safetv,  we  could 
have  spent  the  night  here  with  pleasure. 

With  our  hunting-knives  we  cut  several 
withes,  and  bending  over  a  few  saplings, 
bound  them  together  so  as  to  form  a  regu 
lar  arbor,  which  we  roofed  with  busl  es, 
leaves  and  turf,  sufficiently  to  keep  off  the 
dew  at  least.  \Vi:h  our  rifles,  which  we 
fortunately  had  with  us,  we  next  ransacked 
the  bushes,  and  were  successful  in  scaring 
up  and  shooting  some  two  or  three  hares, 
which  we  dressed  and  cooked,  and  found 
very  palatable — the  more  so,  perhaps,  that 
we  had  eaten  nothing  since  morning — our 
provisions  for  the  journey  having  been  left 
with  our  mules. 

During  the  day  we  saw  nothing  of  oui 
companions,  and  as  night  slowly  shut  in  . 
the  scene,  we  gradually  began  to  lose  the 
faint  hope  that  had  thus  far  been  our  con 
solation.  True,  if  saved,  the  same  cause 
which  prevented  us,  might  also  them,  from 
venturing  forth  upon  what  seemed  almost 
certain  destruction.  But  there  was  no 
certainty — no,  scarcely  a  possibility — they 
had  escaped,  and  this  torturing  thought, 
added  to  our  lonely  situation  and  the  sur 
rounding  gloorn,  made  us  wretched  with 

o      O 

despair. 

Oh  !  what  an  awful  night  was  this  we 
passed  in  the  wilderness !  One  which, 
were  we  to  live  a  thousand  years,  would 
ever  be  a  yesterday  to  us,  so  deeply  and 
painfully  was  it  engraven  upon  the  outer 
tablets  of  our  memories.  To  add  gioom, 
as  it  were,  to  accumulated  horrors,  a  dark, 
angry  cloud  began  to  spread  along  the 
western  horizon,  from  which  shot  vivia 
flashes  of  lightning,  followed  by  the  boom 
ing  roar  of  heavy  thunder,  as  if  the  spirits 
I  of  the  air,  bent  on  making  "  assurance 
doubly  sure,"  were  now  marshaling  theii 


ADVENTURES     IN     THE     FAR     WEST. 


105 


grand   reserve-forces   to   triumph    over  a 
vanquished  foe. 

On,  on  came  the  Storm-King,  flinging 
out  his  black  banners  in  advance,  and  vail 
ing  the  light  of  Heaven's  starry  host,  as 
if  unwilling  one  single  thing  should  be 
left  undone  to  make  his  triumph  most  dis 
mally,  impressively  terrible.  On,  on  he 
caine,  amid  the  almost  incessant  flashes 
and  thunders  of  his  mighty  artillery  ! 

Huddled  together,  in  our  rude  arbor,  be 
fore  which  blazed  a  lurid,  flickering  flame, 
that  gave  our  pale  features  an  unearthly 
appearance,  and  made  our  grim  shadows 
dance  fantastically  behind  us,  like  dark 
spirits  in  a  hellish  revel,  we  sat  and  gazed 
upon  vacancy,  silent  with  emotions  too 
deep  for  utterance. 

Now  the  storm  was  at  its  hight.  Sheet 
upon  sheet  of  the  hot  lightning,  flashing 
in  our  faces,  blinded  our  eyes  ;  pep.l  upon 
peal  of  crashing  thunder,  shaking  the 
earth  beneath,  almost  deafened  us  with  its 
roar;  while  the  rain,  pouring  down  in  tor 
rents,  thoroughly  drenched  and  stiffened 
our  cramped  up  bodies  and  limbs. 

For  two  hours  thus  we  remained  in 
breathless  awe,  motionless  and  silent,  ere 
the  storm  abated  its  fury  ;  and  then  only, 
as  it,  were,  that  we  might  hear  the  howl- 
ings  of  surrounding  wolves,  which,  to  our 
distorted  fancies,  seemed  the  loud  wailings 
of  the  damned  over  the  final  wreck  of 
Nature. 

Serenely  the  morning  broke  upon  the 
night,  and  the  sun  again  rose  as  bri<>-ht 
and  golden  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Never  was  a  day  hailed  with  more  joy. 
With  the  first  streak  of  light,  we  caught 
our  two  overridden  horses,  and  found,  to 
our  groat  delight,  that  they  were  still  ca 
pable  of  performing  a  heavy  task.  Mount 
ing  two  on  each,  we  set  out  over  the 
blackened  plain  to  retrace  our  steps,  and, 
it  possible,  gain  some  tidings  of  our  friends. 

For  an  hour  or  more  we  saw  nothing  to 
attract  particular  attention,  when  suddenly 
Eva  uttered  a  fearful  shriek,  and  pointing 
to  an  object  before  us,  cried  : 

'•  My  God  !  look  on  that !  " 

We  did  look,  with  dilated  eyes,  and  felt 
our  blood  freeze  with,  horror.  It  was  the 
blackened  and  mangled  corse  of  a  human 
being  —  probably  the  remains  of  one  of 
our  companions  of  the  previous  day.  A 


few  feet  from  it  lay  the  half-eaten 
of  a  horse,  too  fatally  confirming  our  sus 
picions. 

Elmer  and  I  dismounted  and  examined 
the  body  of  the  unfortunate  young  man  ; 
but  all  trace  by  which  we  might  identify 
it  was  lost ;  and  with  a  sicken  shudder  and 
trembling  steps  we  passed  on,  with  such 
feelings  as  none  can  evermore  than  faintlj 
imagine. 

About  a  mile  from  this,  we  came  upon 
the  carcass  of  a  horse,  beside  which  lay 
the  stirrups  of  a  saddle,  several  scraps  of 
burnt  leather,  and,  oh  God !  another  hu 
man  body  ! 

"Another  victim  !  "  groaned  Fitzgerald, 
covering  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  hideous 
spectacle.  "  Who  next  ?  " 

"  Great  God  !  "  gasped  1,  "  should  the 
next  be  Charles  and  Evaline  !  But  come, 
Fitzgerald  !  this  is  a  trial  unfitted  for  la 
dies.  See  !  both  Lilian  and  Eva  seem 
ready  to  fall  from  their  horses  !  Let  us 
mount  and  away,  and  take  them  from  this 
awful  scene.  If  we  gain  no  tidings  of  our 
friends  when  we  reach  the  Wahsochees,  we 
will  at  least  get  some  of  them  to  assist 
us  in  the  painful  task  of  searching  for  their 
remains." 

Shaping  our  course  -more  to  the  right, 
we  i  ode  away  over  the  plain,  fearful  to 
look  beneath  our  feet,  lest  our  eyes  might 
chance  upon  another  revolting  spectacle. 
In  the  course  of  a  couple  of  hours,  we  had 
passed  the  first  hill,  leaving  it  away  to  our 
left,  and  were  fast  nearing  the  second,  the 
point  from  whence  we  had  first  viewed  the 
beautiful  prairie,  in  all  the  enchantment 
of  its  loveliness  only  the  morning  previ 
ous,  and  which  we  had  fixed  on  for  ouf 
rendezvous,  in  case  we  became  separated, 
little  dreaming,  in  our  merry  thoughtless 
ness,  of  the  mighty  calamity  hanging  ovei 
us,  and  that  grim  Death  was  even  then 
invisibly  stalking  in  our  midst  to  select  hia 
victims.  Suddenly  Lilian  exclaimed  : 

"  God   be  thanked  !    they  live  !  "    and 
overcome  with  joyful  emotions,  she  could 
only    point    her  finger  and    faintly    add : 
See  !  see  !  " 

"  Ay,  thank  God  ! '  cried  I,  "  they  are 
saved  ! ''  and  1  pointed  to  Charles  and  Eva- 
line,  whom  we  now  descried  rushing  doivn 
the  hill  before  us,  followed  by  some  fii'teen 
or  twen  y  of  the  Mysterious  Tribe. 


106 


LENI    LEOTI;    OR, 


Five  minutes  later,  we  stood  clasping  each 
other,  weeping  and  speechless  with  joy. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE  KSCAPK — KKTTRX  TO  TJIE  FORT — JOY TI1EDKA1) 

ALIVK— HOMRWAlin  BOL'M)— THK  ROUTK — RKKI.KC- 
TIOXS — DKSTIXATIOX  (iAINKD II A  IT  V  JIKKTIXCJ. 

IT  is  unnecessary  lor  me  to  dwell  upon  this 
rapturous  meeting,  one  of  the  most  joyful  I 
had  ever  experienced.  No  one  can  conceive 
our  feelings  but  such  as  have  been  plticetl  in 
like  situations.  Each  party  had  looked  upon 
the  othe  as  dead,  and  mourned  their  loss  ac 
cordingly  ;  Mid  it  was  with  tears  of  gratitude 
for  our  deliverance  from  an  awful  fate,  that  we 
narrated  to  each  other  the  manner  of  escape. 
That  of  Charles  and  Evaline  was  as  follows  : 

At  the  time  they  discovered  the  lire  they 
were  some  four  miles  in  our  rear,  and  at  least 
two  behind  the  hindmost  of  the  party.  Made 
aware  of  their  danger,  they  sougnt  to  avert  it 
by  flight  ;  and  as  the  hill  behind  them  was  the 
nearest,  elevated  point,  they  had  strivm  to  gain 
it  in  advance  of  the  dames.  In  this  they  had 
been  disappointed.  The  fire,  driven  by  a 
Strong  breeze  of  its  own  creating,  rushed  for 
ward  with  such  frightful  velocity,  that  when 
within  a  mile  or  so  of  the  desirahfe  point,  they 
found,  to  their  dismay  and  horror,  all  hope  of 
escape  in  that  quarter  cut  off. 

"  imagine  my  feelings,"  said  Huntly,  as  h« 
told  me  the  tale,  "when,  all  hope  of  escape 
over,  I  threw  my  arm  around  the  waist  of  Eva- 
line,  and  pointing  to  the  flames,  which,  driven 
forward  by  a  strong  breeze,  had  already  passed 
the  hill  to  the  westward  and  were  fast  sweep 
ing  around  to  enclose  it,  with  a  fiery  wall — 
when,  I  say,  viewing  all  this  with  a  calmness 
of  utter  despair,  I  whispered  : 

/'  'At  least,  dear  Evaline,  we  will  die  together.' 

"'  Rather  say  live  together,'  she  exclaimed', 
if  you  have  any  means  of  striking  lire.' 

"  '  Only  a  pistol,'  I  replied. 

"  'That  will  do,'  she  answered.  'Quick  !  let  us 
dismount,  tear  up  the  grass  around  us  and  fire  it.' 

"In  an  instant,'' pursued  Huntly,  •'  I  com 
prehended  all  ;  anil  springing  from  my  horse, 
With  hope  renewed,  labored  as  a  mini  may, 
when  hin  own  life  and  that  of  another  more 
valuable  are,  depending  on  his  exertions  In 
two  minutes  ft  small  spot  was  cleared,  and 
placing  MIT  pistol  within  a  bunch  of  torn  up 
grass,  I  fired.  The  Hash  ignited  it,  and  a  bright 
flame  shooting  upward,  caught  on  all  sides, 
and  sped  away  on  its  work  of  death,  leaving  a 
blackened  circle,  within  which  we  stepped  and 
remained  unharmed.  As  soon  as  the  fire  had 
passed,  we  remounted  and  dashed  over  the 
nealad  earth  to  the  hill  before  us,  where,  like 
yourselves,  we  passed  a  terrible  night  of  agon 
ized  suspense.  Not  having  seen  any  signs  of 
yon  or  the  rest  of  the  party  during  the  day,  we 
finally  came  to  the  melancholy  conclusion  that 
all  \vete  lost,  and  at  daybreak  this  morning  set 
off  for  the  Indian  village  with  the  heart-rend 
ing  intelligence  Some  twenty  of  the  tribe  at 
once  volunteered  to  go  back  with  us,  and  on 
this  sail  journey  we  had  already  set  out,  when, 
to  our  unspeakable  joy,  we  espied  you  gallop 
ing  over  the  plain,  and  hastened  to  meet  you." 

"  Strange  I  "  said  I,  iu  reply,  "  that  I  should 


i  have  overlooked  a  means  of  escape  so  simple 
j  as  firing  the  prairie!  It  would  ha-'e  saved  * 
|  world  of  trouble  ;  but  from  the  fir.*t  1  lost  my 
'  presence  of  mind,  and  thought  of  nothing  but 
|  escape  by  flight.  Abis  !  for  our  (ompanionti! 
;  Have  you  seen  any  of  them,  Charles  '!" 

•'  Not  one,"  he  answered  with  a  sigh. 

"  Then  I  fear  all  have  perished  !  " 

"What  are  we  to  do  under  th«*  circum 
stances?"  he  inquired. 

"  Why,  I  think  we  had  better  set  -out  for 
Fort  Laramie  at  once  ;  for  our  friends  there, 
even  now,  are  doubtless  becoming  exceedingly 
uneasy  at  our  long  absei^e." 

'•  And  leave  the  bones  of  our  late  compaa 
ions  to  bleach  on  the  open  prairie,  Frank  ?" 

"  No  !  We  must  get  the  Indians  to  hunt  up 
their  bodies  and  give  them  decent  burial." 

This  plan  was  finally  adopted  ;  and  in  the 
course  of  a  couple  of  hours  we  had  again  part 
ed  with  the  Wahsochees,  and  were  on  our  re 
turn  to  the  fort. 

The  journey  proved  a  tedious  one,  for  all 
were  sad  and  s-ilerit  with  gloomy  thoughts. 
Traveling  some  thirty  miles  we  encamped,  and 
resuming  oar  route  ihe  next  morning,  we  reach 
ed  the  fort  in  the  afternoon  of  the  >ame  day. 

As  we  rode  into  the  area,  ihe  inmates  all 
rushed  out  to  greet  and  wuleome  us,  and  :miong 
them  came  Mrs.  Huntly  and  Madame  Morti 
mer,  almost  frantic  with  joy.  At  first  we  were 
at  a  loss  to  comprehend  the  canst-  of  this  strong 
ebullition  of  feeling;  but  diii  not  long  remara 
in  ignorance;  for  the  next  moment,  descrying 
two  of  our  late  companions  in  the  crowd,  th« 
whole  truth  flashed  upon  us. 

"  Oh,  my  children  !  my  children  !  "  exclaim 
ed  Mrs.  Himtly;  and  overcome  with  her  feel 
ings,  >he  could"only  first  clasp  one  and  then  the 
oilier  to  her  heart  in  silence! 

"My  daughters!  and  do  I  indeed  see  you 
alive  again  V"  cried  Madame  itortimer,  press 
ing  Eva  and  Evaline  to  her  panting  breast. 

"0!  could  you  but,  know  a  mother's  ag'>uy 
for  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  during  which 
she  had  mourned  you  as  dead,  you  would  never 
leave  her  again." 

But  not  to  dwell  upon  this  affectionate  meet 
ing,  it  will  only  be  necessary  to  slate,  that  twe 
of  the  party  whom  we  supposed  dead,  had 
escaped  by  flying  from  tlie  field  and  taking 
refuge  on  the  ridge  to  the  north.  Here  they 
had  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  to  gaze  upon 
she  sublime  scene  of  ihe  burning  plain  ;  and 
then,  believing  all,  save  themselves,  had  per 
ished,  had  made  the  best  of  their  way  back  to 
the  fort  and  so  reported.  No  wondwr,  then, 
there  was  surprise,  and  joy,  <fei  beholding  iit  ua 
the  dead  alive,  the  lost  ones  found. 

The  second  day  following  our  return.  WO 
again  set  out  on  "our  homeward  journey,  iu 
company  with  a  small  party  of  emigrants  who 
had  recently  crossed  over  the  mountains  from 
California.  "  For  several  dars  my  friends  and 
myself  were  unusually  thoughtful  ami  serious  , 
but  as  we  neared  the  confines  of  civilization, 
and  felt  we  were  about  to  quit  the  wilderness, 
with  all  its  hardships  and  perils,  to  niingli 
with  scenes  more  suited  !o  our  tastes,  our  spir 
its  gradually  grew  buoyant  with  the  seeming 
ly  unalloyed  happiness  of  youthful  days 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  singular  feelings  W« 
experienced— I  speak  of  Huntly  aud  myself- 


ADVENTURES    IN    THE    FAR    WEST. 


10? 


M  we  rode  into  tlie  small  town  of  Independ- 
fcnce,  Missouri,  and  recalled  the  many  strik- 
ir.t;  events  of  the  long  period  which  had  inter 
vened  since  last  we  beheld  the  place.  Then 
giddy  with  the  wild  ness  of  youth — :ilone — free 
frnhi  restraint — with  no  tie  stronger  than  the 
filial  binding  us  to  any  one  particular  spot — 
we  were  just  sotting  forth  upon  a  new  world 
of  adventure  I  Now,  sobered  by  painful  ex 
perience,  and  in  company  with  those  we  loved, 
we  were  retracing  our  steps,  perfectly  satisfied 
there  was  "  no  place  like  home, "and  no  scenes 
so  dear  to  ;is  as  those  of  our  native  land.  We 
had  seen  dinger  in  everv  form,  suffered  all  that 
we  could  suiter  and  live,  and  had  our  souls 
tried  by  the  sternest  tests,  been  miraculously 
preserved  through  all,  blessed  beyond  our 
deserts,  and  now  felt  contented  to  leave  the 
fit-id  forever  to  such  as  might  fancy  it,  and  re 
tire  to  the  sweet  seclusion  of  domestic  life. 

The  countenance  of  Evaline,  as  day  by  day 
we  progressed  toward  the  East,  gradually 
bri<rl.itened  with  a  sweeter  happiness  than  she 
had  ever  known — the  happiness  of  being  with 
her  mother  and  sister — of  knowing  she  was 
nrf  a  nameless  being,  cast  astray  by  some  un 
toward  freak  of  fortune — of  feeling' she  loved 
and  was  in  turn  beloved.  She  was  now  enter- 
iug  a  world  where  everything,  opening  up 
Ju-\v  and  strange,  filled  her  with  wonder,  ex 
cited  her  curio>ity,  and  kept  her  in  a  continual 
state  of  pleased  excitement.  Eva  was  happy 
in  the  company  of  one  who  eould  appreciate 
her  noble  qualities,  and  lend  her  those  affec 
tionate  and  tender  sympathies  which  the  ar 
dent  soul  ever  craves,  and  without  which  it 
languishes,  and  droops,  and  feels  there  is  a 
mighty  void  within.  Lilian  was  happy,  £nd 
my  vanity  sometimes  whispered  me  a  reason 
therefor.  In  sooth,  by  the  time  we  reached  St. 
Louis,  there  was  not  a  sad  heart  in  the  party — 
unless  in  a  reflective  mood,  a  dark  shadow 
from  the  past  might  chance  to  sweep  across  it 
for  a  moment — only,  as'it  were,  tp  make  it  seem 
more  bright  in  the  glorious  sunshine  of  the 
present. 

With  what  emotions  of  wonder  and  joy  did 
Evaline  view  those  mighty  leviathans,  that,  by 
the  genius  and  mechanism  of  man,  are  made 
to^  play  upon  the  mighty  rivers  of  the  Great 
West,  and  bear  him  on  his  journey  as  he  passes 
to  and  fro  to  all  portions  of  the  habitable  globe  ! 
And  then  the  delight  we  all  felt,  as  wo. glided 
down  the  turbid  \yaters  pf  the  great  Mississ 
ippi,  and  steered  up  the  beautiful  Ohio,  past 
villages,  and  towns,  and  cities,  where  the 
pleasing  hum  of  civilization,  iu  every  breast 
save  one,  awoke  sweet  memories  of  former 
days,  and  made  our  hearts  bound  with  pleas 
ing  anticipations  of  what  wns  yet  to  come. 

On,  on  we  swept  up  the  Ohio,  past  the  flour 
ishing  cities  of  Louisville  and  Cincinnati, 
(making  only  a  short  stay  at  each.)  to  that  of 
Pittsburgh,  where  our  steamer  was  exchanged 
for  another,  that  for  the  stage,  to  bear  us  over 
the  romantic  Alleghanies,  and  that  in  turn  for 
th«  rushing  car, to  land  us  in  Hultimore.  again  in 
1  hiladelphi'a,  and  lastly  in  that  grca',  emporium 
of  the  western  continent,  New  York.  And  spon, 
on — ever-changing,  continually  progressing— 
toward  the  golden  haven  of  our  desires— which. 
Heaven  be  praised  !  we  at  last  reached  in  safety. 
During  the  latter  part  of  the  journey,  my 


I  feelings  became  very  sad.     I  was  ncaring  th« 
|  home  of  my  youth — the  abode  of  my  dearly- 
loved  parents — after  many  long  years  of  pain 
ful   and    eventful    separation.     What   changes 
might    not    have    occurred    in    the    interval ! 
Changes,  perad  venture,  t<>  rend  my  heart  with 
anguish.     My  parents — my  affectionate  mother 
|  — my  kind  ami  indulgent  father — how  I  trem- 
|  bled  to  think  of  them  !     What  if,  as  in  tie  rase 
I  of  my   friends,  one   or  both    had   been    called 
!  from  the  scenes  of  earth,  and  were  now  sleep 
ing  their  last  sleep  in  the  molderiny  church 
yard—never  to  bless   me   more  wilh   the  soft 
light  of  their  benign  eyes  !     Oh  !  what  a  heart- 
sickening  feeling,  of  almost    utter  c'esolatio.n, 
the  very  thought  of  it  produced!  until  1  forced 
myself  to  think  no  more,  lest  I   should   lack 
physical  strength  to  bear  me  on  to  the  knowl 
edge  I  longed  yet  dieadcd  to  gain. 

Pressing  invitations  from  us,  and  I  scarcely 
need  add  a  more  eloquent  persuasion  from  the 
soft,  dark  eyes  of  another,  had  induced  Elmer 
Fitzgerald  to  extend  his  journey  a  few  hun 
dred  miles  beyond  his  original  intention.  Ar 
rived  in  the  city,  we  all  took  rooms  at  a  hotel, 
until  such  time  as  we  could  notify  our  friends 
of  our  presence — or  rather,  until"  I  could  see 
my  parents,  if  living,  in  advance  of  the  others. 
With  a  heart  palpitating  with  hope  and  fear, 
I  hurried  into  a  carriage  and  ordering  the  driver 
not  to  spare  his  horses,  leaned  back  on  my 
seat,  and  gave  myself  up  to  the  most  intense  and 
painful  meditations— occasionally  listening  to 
the  rumbling  of  the  swift  whirling  wheels, 
and  wondering  when  they  would  cease  their 
motion  at  their  present  destination — or  gazing 
from  the  window  at  the  thousand  objects  flit- 
ting  p^st  me,  with  that  vague  look  of  the  oc 
cupied  mind,  which  takes  in  each  thing  dis 
tinctly,  and  yet  seems  to  see  nothing  whatever. 
"  Crack  went  the  whip,  round  went  the 
wheels,"  and  on  we  sped  at  the  same  rapid 
pace.  At  length  my  attention  was  arrested  by 
objects  familiar  from  my  boyhood,  and  my  heart 
seemed  to  creep  to  my  throat,  for  I  knew  I  was 
clo.se  upon  the  mansion  of  my  father.  A  few 
moments  of  breathless  suspense,  and  the  car 
riage  stopped  suddenly,  the  door  swung  open, 
and,  leaping  out,  I  rushed  up  the  steps  and 
into  the  dwelling  of  my  parents. 
Two  minutes  later,  unannounced,  I  stood  in  the 
presence  of  both,  but  saw  I  was  not  recognized- 
"  Mother!  father!"  I  cried,  "have  you  for 
gotten  your  long  absent  son  ?  " 

There  was  a  brief  moment  of  speechless, 
joyful  amazement,  and  the  next  I  was  in  my 
mother's  arms,  while  my  father  stood  by,  preaa- 
ing  my  hand  and  weeping  as  a  child. 


CHAPTER    XXV  I. 

A   GOEOKOUS    BCENE — THE    MYSTERY   SOLVED— FOR 
TUNE  PBOPITIOU8 — HAPPINESS — THK  FINALE. 

READER!  I  am  about  to  close— about  to  pre 
sent  to  you  the  last  scene  of  set-lies  I  shall  ever 
give  of  this  my  drama  of  life.  I  am  about  to 
bid  you  farewell,  perchance  forever.  May  J 
not  trust  we  part  as  friends  ?— as  boon  com 
panions,  who  have  together  made  a  Long  pil- 
grimage,  with  an  ever  cordial  attachment  and 
friendly  understanding-?  From  the  land  of 
my  nativity,  you  hare  followed  roe  througk  » 


108 


L  E  N  I    L  E  0  T  I 


Kriorl  of  years,  over  the  •wilderness  of  the  far, 
r  West,  back  again  to  my  native  land.  You 
have  scon  me  in  prosperity  and  adversity — in 
sickness  and  health — in  moments  of  ease  and 
safety — in  moments  of  hardship  and  peril — in 
the  calmness  of 'quiet  meditation,  and  amid  the 
turmoil,  and  strife,  and  din  of  battle.  From 
first  to  la»ti  I  have  been  ever  present  to  you — 
made  you  my  confidante — laid  bare  to  your 

Size  the  secret  workings  of  my  ardent  spirit, 
ay  1  not  trust  I  have  had  your  sympathy  ? 
that  you  have  felt  an  interest  in  my  fate,  and 
also  in  the  fate  of  those  with  whom  my 
fortune  has  been  so  closely  connected  ?  Yes*! 
1  will  trust  we  part  as  friends — that  when  you 
have  perused  the  last  page  <>f  this,  rny  hum 
ble  scroll,  you  will  not  cast  it  aside,  as  alto 
gether  worthless — that  you  will  long  after 
spare  me  and  my  friends  a  single  thought  of 
pleasing  remembrance.  lean  not  see  you — can 
not  hear  your  answer — and  yet  something  whis 
pers  me  it  is  as  I  desire — that  we  shall  not  sepa 
rate  but  with  mutual  regrets.  %  Be  this  as  it  may, 
the  farewell  must  be  said — the  solemn  farewell: 

'•  That  word  which  must  be  and  hath  been — 
That,  sound  which  makes  us  linger." 

It  was  a  brilliant  scene.  In  a  large  saloon, 
made  gorgeous  with  all  the  luxuries  wealth 
could  procure  from  all  parts  of  the  habitable 
globe — Avith  soft  carpets  from  Turkey,  antique 
vases  from  China,  old  paintings  from  Germany, 
and  statues  from  Florence — with  long  hanging 
mirrors,  that  doubled  the  splendors  of  the 
Bcene — with  chairs,  and  sofas,  and  ottomans, 
cushioned  with  the  softest  and  most  costly  of 
rel vets — with  everything,  in  short,  to  please, 
dazzle,  and  fascinate  the  eye — over  which 
streamed  a  soft,  bewitching,  alabaster  light — 
where  strains  of  melodious  music  stole  sweetly 
upon  the  enraptured  sense  of  the  hearer;  in 
such  a  gorgeous  apartment  as  this,  I  say,  were 
collected  bright  faces,  sparkling  eyes,  snowy 
arms,  and  lovely  forms — set  off  with  vestures 
of  broadcloths,  and  silks,  and  satins,  and  or 
namented  with  chains  of  gold,  and  jewels  of 
diamond,  and  ruby,  and  pearl,  arid  sapphire. 
Ay!  in  such  a  place  as  this — in  the  mansion 
of  my  father — were  assembled  the  elite  of  Bos 
ton,  to  witness  the  nuptials  of  Evaline  and 
Oharles,  Eva  and  Elmer,  Lilian  and  myself. 

Need  I  dwell  upon  the  scene  ?  Need  I  say  it 
was  as  happy  as  gorgeous  ?  Need  I  add,  that 
the  fair  maidens  led  to  the  altar  looked  more 
sweet  and  lovely  than  any  had  ever  before  seen 
them  ?  No !  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  enter 
into  detail  here,  for  the  quick  perception  of  the 
reader  will  divine  all  I  would  say.  Enough, 
that  the  rough  scenes  of  the  wilderness  through 
which  we  had  passed,  could  not  be  more  strong 
ly  contrasted  than  on  this  never-to-be-forgotten 
occasion  of  unalloyed  happiness. 

The  solemn  nuptial  ..te  was  followed  with 
congratulations — with  music, dancing,  and  fes 
tivities — and  it  was  loi.g  past  the  noon  of  night 
ere  the  well-pleased  guests  departed, and  a  small 
circle  of  happy  friei.ds  were  left  to  themselves. 
When  all  had  at  last  become  quiet,  and  none 
were  present  but  the  newly-married  and  their 
nearest  and  dearest  relatives  : 

''  Now,  said  Madame  Mortimer,  'vith  a  smile, 
"to  add  pleasure  to  pleasure;  to  make  the  happy 
happier — I  have  a  joyful  surprise  for  you  all." 


"Permit  me  to  doubt."  said  I,  "if  aught 
any  one  can  say,  can  in  any  degree  add  to  the. 
happiness  of  those  here  present.  I  look  upon 
the  thing  as  impossible.  However,  1  may  be 
too  confident ;  but,  at  least,  I  speak  for  myself." 
"  And  yet,  pursued  the  other,  smiling  arch 
ly,  "  would  it  not  add  pleasure  even  to  you, 
irancis,  Were  I  to  tell  you  a  dark  mystery  haa 
been  cleared  up.  and  a  wrong  matter  set  right  1" 
"  What  mean  you  ?  "  asked  I,  while  tbe  rest 
turned  to  her  with  eager  curiosity. 

"  What  would  you  think  should  I  now  pro 
ceed  to  prove  to  you,  my  friends,  that  tl-e  per 
son  you  have  long  known  as  Madame  Morti 
mer,  is  from  this  time  forth  to  be  known  aa 
Marchioness  of  Lombardy  V" 

•'  How  ?  what  'I  speak  !  "  exclaimed  01  e  anw 
all  in  a  breath. 

"  Ay,  such  is  the  fact.  Since  my  ret  jrn,  I 
have  received  letters  from  England  and  France, 
stating  that  my  late  husband — for  he  is  now 
dead — was  none  other  than  the  Marquis  of 
Lombardy,  who  was  banished  from  France  for 
some  state  intrigue,  and  afterward  restored  to 
favor.  Fearing,  before  his  death,  that  some 
future  revolution  might  again  endanger  hit 
property,  he  managed  to  dispose  of  sufficient 
to  purchase  a  large  estate  in  England,  which 
he  has  generously  bequeathed  to  me  and  mj 
heirs  forever.  Accompanying  his  will,  whicn 
I  have  now  in  my  possession,  is  a  long  letter, 
in  which  he  asks  forgiveness  for  the  wrong  he 
had  formerly  done  me  in  separation,  and 
wherein  he  states  as  a  reason  for  never  men 
tioning  his  title,  that  at  some  future  time  he 
had  designed  taking  me  by  surprise  ;  but  that 
the  news  of  the  restoration  of  himself  and  for 
tune,  corning  at  a  moment  when  his  worst  pas 
sions  were  excited,  he  had  left  me  in  an  abrupt 
manner,  taking  Evaline  with  him,  whom,  he 
sorrowfully  adds,  was  afterward  lost  or  mur 
dered :  that  of  this  foul  deed  he  had  always 
suspected  a  near  relation  of  his — a  villain  who 
brought  him  the  intelligence  of  his  fortune 
being  restored — and  that  in  consequence  ha 
had  taken  what  precautions  he  could,  to  put 
his  property,  in  case  of  his  sudden  decease, 
entirely  beyond  the  other's  reach.  This,  raj- 
friends,  is  all  I  will  tell  you  to-night ;  but  to 
morrow  you  shall  have  proofs  of  all  I  have 
said.  And  now,  my  daughters,  that  you  are 
happily  wedded,  I  give  you  this  estate  as  • 
marriage  portion." 

I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  emotions  of  joyful  sur 

prise  which  this  revelation  excited  in  the  hearts 

of  those  who  heard  it.     Suffice,  that  it  did  add 

pleasure  to  pleasure — made  the  happy  happier. 

A  sentence   more   and    1   have   done.     The 

words  of  the  Marchioness  of  Lombardy  were 

subsequently  verified  in  every  particular,  and 

Charles  Huntly,  and  Elmer  Fitzgerald,  hav« 

had  no  cause,  thus  far,  even  in  a  pecuniary 

point  of  view,  to  regret  the  choice  they  mad* 

in  the  wilderness  of  the  Far  West.     Propitiout 

I  fortune  now  smiles  upon  all,  and  al1  are  happy. 

Thus  is  it  ever.     To-day  we  rise — i"  morrow 

fall— to  rise  again  perchance  the  next.      Pros-; 

perity  and  adversity  are  ever  so  closely  linked, 

that  the  most  trivial  event  may  make  or  mat 

'.  our  happiness.     The  Past  we  know — the  Pies- 

ent  we  see — but  who  shall  say  aught  of  tt« 

Future.     So  ends  the  scene. 

i  THE  END. 


